The Black Sheep
by shattered petal
Summary: He willingly follows her into a world where death is played, and he knows he should abandon her. But Miles has always been too loyal. -Miles/Olivier
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: The Black Sheep  
><strong>Couple<strong>: Miles/Olivier; hints of Royai  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Hurt/Comfort/Romance  
><strong>Rating<strong>: M

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><p><span>The Black Sheep<span>  
><strong>Chapter 1.<strong>

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><p>That night someone had been tortured to death, and the culprit was caught.<p>

At first, Miles thought he should scold her. She had waited to be seen with the mangled corpse, and that annoyed him. It was reckless of her. If someone recognised her she would have been snatched off her post as General. That was what he figured anyway. Miles was still growing used to military rules and such. He was still a bit of a rookie.

He felt a wave of betrayal. This murder wasn't military procedure; she had murdered this man for personal reasons. That was criminal. Then again, she had killed many men without her career to back her up, General Raven being one of them.

Between the two of them, Miles always felt like the honest one. He had been a good boy, and obeyed her commands and even forced himself to agree revenge was wrong. He found that hard to believe now, standing in front of her, blood across her gloved hands. She looked _mental_. Maybe she was. Miles had never been comfortably sure of her stability. She kept her emotions locked inside, and he knew that was unhealthy. It would only be a matter of time before she snapped.

They were alone. Central was quiet when dark. She sat atop of a wall, her precious corpse sprawled below her. She looked too calm. There was no remorse in her eyes, which made Miles shiver. She was deranged.

'You might catch a cold, ma'am.'

He couldn't bring himself to reveal how he felt of this murder. He was afraid what she could do to him. Dismissing him was like stealing his soul.

'So?' She was giving him an attitude.

He hated her when she acted this way: uncaring and disloyal.

'What do you intend to do with the body?'

She looked at him, her aqua eyes shining in the dark. She propped her elbow on her knee and shrugged. 'Apparently crows like to eat human flesh.'

Miles swallowed, hoping she was joking. He remained a few feet away from her, his eyes resting on the bloodied blade still firmly gripped in her hand. She craned her neck to the side and poked her sword at the body. Miles didn't find this unusual of her. She had a sick humour sometimes.

'I came to find you,' he said. She didn't respond. 'You said you'd be at the manor. You weren't there, so I checked to see if you were still at the graveyard. . .'

She laughed, and a chill shot up his spine. The blonde jumped off the wall, deliberately treading over the corpse and walked to her subordinate. He was frozen, fists clenched. He had known her for years, and he was still afraid of her.

'No. I've been here for a while now actually.'

Miles swallowed. 'Ma'am? I think you're tired.'

She rolled her eyes back. 'Oh right, I see.'

'You should have let General Mustang deal with this.'

'_Him_? What would he do?' She scoffed. 'I dealt with it.'

'Ma'am, you _killed_ him.'

'I know I did.'

He gritted his teeth. He couldn't believe she was acting so dim. 'You _murdered_ him. It was just revenge you wanted, and you know full well what revenge can turn you into–'

'Don't talk to your superior that way.' She glared at him, and he buckled. Her eyes turned to the corpse. 'I fucking know what I wanted, Major. I'm not stupid.'

Miles lowered his gaze. He bit his lip, desperate to figure out what was going on in her head. He couldn't understand. He didn't know what it felt like to lose someone so close. His loved ones passed away before he could remember. How could he relate? Yet he still felt angered towards her. She was a fucking _hypocrite_, and she knew it. He felt like he deserved an apology or some sort of reasonable explanation. She would never give him the pleasure though.

'When did you find him?' His voice was weak and soft.

She shrugged. 'I don't know. Sometime after the funeral. It was hilarious how scared he was when he saw me.'

Miles examined the man. His face was unharmed, yet his jacket had been ripped open and horrific cuts were across his chest. Blood pooled to the ground, and he was a messy state. Both of his legs had been chopped clean off, and when he found them sprawled nearby Miles almost threw up.

He wasn't scared by what she could do to him; he was scared by what she could do to _herself_. She hadn't just killed that man – she had killed a part of herself. She was slowly falling apart.

'It was just him?'

'Yes: sniper. I would compliment him if he hadn't shot someone close to me.' She sneered. 'Real good aim.'

Miles allowed her to walk past him. He swept his eyes back to the corpse, and wondered if he should dispose of it. He turned to his General who continued to walk away smoothly, her sword hanging limply from her fist. She didn't order him to follow, so he let her go alone.

The Ishvalan returned back to the corpse half an hour later, now having company beside him. Roy whistled low when he examined the General's doings, before standing up. Miles looked at him, uncertain. Roy smiled.

'Don't worry. I can burn this guy to cinders. There won't be a trace of him left. Little Miss Armstrong is lucky to have me as a friend.' He pulled on his Alchemic glove. 'Stand back a little. Don't want to singe you.' Both stepped away, and Mustang clicked his fingers. A spurt of fire blew towards the dead man, and latched onto him, eating his flesh greedily. Miles glanced away, whereas Roy dreamily watched the corpse melt. 'So, when did you find her?'

'Not long ago,' Miles said.

'Was this the guy?'

'Yes.'

'Shit.' Roy inhaled shakily. 'She should have had Hawkeye with her. She's very good at making people behave. I remember when I sought revenge for years. When I finally found the _monster_, I was stopped. Hawkeye helped me stay sane.' He realised he was placing Miles in heavy guilt, so quickly added, 'However you didn't know where your General was. I'm sure you would have helped her.'

Miles didn't respond. The crackle of burnt skin echoed in his ears. He swallowed and inhaled deeply.

Mustang left the corpse to burn alone after convincing Miles it would be gone by morning. The two officers walked away, an emptiness digging into their stomachs. Miles shoved his hands in his pockets and bowed his head.

'Six years.'

He looked at Mustang. 'Sorry, sir?'

'It took six years for Ishvala to be recovered. That's a long time,' Roy met his gaze. 'You've been away from your General for a while, Miles. Maybe some other things have happened to her.' He grinned and faced forwards. 'You can't really tell. Hm, maybe I should speak to her, ahaha.'

He forced a small smile.

'When do you return North?'

'That's up for her to decide. At the moment, I have no idea. She might send me back alone.'

* * *

><p>Miles arrived at the Armstrong manor to check if his General was inside, but his answer was given when he spotted her slowly walking up the road, her sword still in hand. He dashed to meet her and she showed no surprise when he blocked her from continuing.<p>

'I appreciate what's happening to you, ma'am, but. . . I want you to think about what you did.'

He hadn't been quick enough to save her, and it wasn't even his fault. She had disappeared from her mourning family to have sweet revenge. It had been a rushed meeting, and the man was on his knees before he had even _noticed_ her. The _pop _heard when she whammed her fist into his face had been satisfying in a sickly way. He had crumpled over, mouth agape, eyes fixed to the sky.

She secretly hated herself for smiling at his lifeless body, but she was never the hero, like Roy Mustang gave the impression to be. She was neither villain or ally. Just an angel with a withered wing, struggling to keep up with heroic Generals like that Flame Alchemist.

'It was an accident.'

He almost laughed. He wouldn't buy that for a second.

'Go, Miles.' Even to her ears, she sounded exhausted.

She pushed past him, and he subconsciously grabbed her arms, pulling her towards him. She raised her eyebrows lazily. 'No. You're acting peculiar, ma'am, and I want to help.'

The General sighed. She would usually be offended by an offer, but tonight she couldn't be bothered. 'Don't.' She roughly shoved past him, away from sight.

The idiot should give up on her already. Leave her be. But Miles was too loyal. She had raised him into a lost cub, following his leader anywhere; everywhere, because he had nowhere else to go. Miles had been different to her other men. He was a broken boy when he appeared to her during the Ishval War, unlike the others who were strong and healthy. He was sensitive and shy, and she had fixed him by corrupting him even more.

Not many followed her like Miles. He would run to be by her side when he saw her, act as if she was some sort of God, salute her whenever she passed and never speak out of term. He was a good boy. A _really_ good boy. It was like she, a lion, had adopted a black sheep – the outcast. And because the black sheep had nowhere else to flee, he stuck with her.

In all honesty, Miles tended to respect her more than any of her family. Those who had cared for her were gone, and Miles was the only one who remained. It was only a matter of time before the devil snatched him away from her, and she dreaded that moment so much. It was a fear she never spoke of.

* * *

><p>Central's park was huge, and it was only when the holidays arrived did the circus crowd the grass. It was the beginning of winter, and adults were still going to work, taking their children to school or daycare. Ice had occupied the roads, and some cars skidded slightly, but no accidents were caused that morning.<p>

Riza didn't have to travel far to work, and decided to walk. The grass across the park was covered with dew, and her boots were shining after a few steps. She wrapped her coat around her firmer, growing chilly. A couple of school children dashed past, a football being passed between them.

Her eyes caught sight of a large man sitting on a bench. His eyes were fastened to the ground and he looked miserable. Riza recognised him, but out of timidness began to walk past. Her sympathy got the better of her, and she sat next to the man. There was silence for a while.

'I hope the funeral went well,' she said gently.

'Hm?' He rose his head. 'Oh.'

Riza sighed. 'Are you okay to go into work?' She knew Alex was a very sensitive man, and the impact of what had happened recently must have affected him deeply.

'Of course,' he said. She pulled a sympathetic expression. The old Alex wouldn't have stated that. He would have buckled down and stayed at home, crying.

'Well, if you don't start moving, you'll be late.'

Alex exhaled slowly and leaned back, toppling the bench a little. 'You go on ahead, Hawkeye.'

She remained put. 'I'm not leaving until you do.'

'Fair enough.' She noticed a small smile.

They sat in silence again for another few minutes. 'How is your family taking it?'

'They're all the same, you could say.' He frowned, and his eyes began to pour with tears. 'Poor mother couldn't stop crying.'

Riza patted his shoulder. 'What did you do after the funeral?'

'All went back home. . .' he sniffed, wiping his eyes. Then Alex frowned. 'Though, I'm not sure where Olivier went.'

Hawkeye's heart skipped a beat. She remembered the phone call she had with Roy last night. He had told her to check near Central bridge if there was a corpse there. Riza found that a peculiar thing to say, but she obeyed. There was no corpse. The fact Olivier had gone missing last night made Riza shiver. Was the corpse related to her absence? Was Mustang not telling her something?

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><p>When Roy was pissed off, he tended to speak before he thought. Last night hadn't bothered him very much, but now he had slept and everything fell into place. Olivier's hypocrisy was nasty, and he couldn't believe Miles hadn't said anything. Well, if the Ishvalan didn't have the courage to speak to her, then Roy did.<p>

He knew she wouldn't be home (he wasn't even sure if she had _been _home yet), and spent the first few hours before work searching for her. Mustang found her at the train station, reading the times for when the trains would be leaving.

'You're quite sick, did you know that?' He yelled, ignoring the faces that turned to him.

Olivier calmly looked at him. 'What's your problem, Mustang?'

'My problem?' He scoffed. '_My_ problem? What's _your_ problem? Were you drunk last night or something?'

She gritted her teeth. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Jeez, I'm talking about. . .' he lowered his voice, '. . . the guy you killed last night. Do you know what kind of impact that would have on Miles? If I recall correctly, you are someone who is really against revenge. Don't you find it a little hypocritical to start murdering people yourself?'

She rolled her eyes. 'I don't think you can tell me the wrongs about murdering people.'

He stopped. He widened his eyes and hated her. 'You know, I want to take this outside.'

Olivier looked amused. She walked out and he followed. He was breathing heavily, fuming and despising her. He swallowed.

'Don't remind me–'

'Mustang, what makes you so confident to confront me like this? It's not as if _you_ haven't murdered anyone yourself.'

'That is all in the past.' He sparked with fire. 'I have learnt my lesson. What's happened to you? You're becoming a freak.'

She snorted. 'Excuse me, I'm not the one who relies on Alchemy to keep me alive.'

Roy snarled. His temptation to click his fingers was becoming too much. She smiled, recognising his anger and beckoned him. He was just about to snap, when a tanned hand forced his limb down. Mustang looked sharply towards Miles, surprised to see him here. Olivier glared.

'Don't you start as well,' Miles muttered, lacking confidence. Roy lowered his hand.

It clicked into Olivier's head why Miles had appeared. 'Wait, did you come here to _save_ me or something?'

'Ma'am.' Miles said. He wasn't going to answer, not wanting an argument. They had never argued before.

Roy looked at her bluntly. 'I've got to head to work. Seeing as your sister's funeral is over, you may as well return North.'

Olivier wheeled around, completely ignoring her subordinate, and entered the station. Miles followed suit, several feet away from her whilst she checked the timetable. After a few seconds, she turned to him. 'We're going back.'

He thought it cold of her to leave her family after a death, but Olivier was never the type to have "family time". He didn't utter a word whilst she got them tickets.

When she returned, Miles shifted a little when he spotted three bulky men proceeding towards them. He wondered if they were relatives, but none had the typical Armstrong feature. They weren't military either. Miles felt for his gun. Olivier was unnerved.

'Are you Olivier Armstrong?'

She sighed, as if bored. 'That depends who's asking.'

The man shocked Miles when he grabbed the scruff of her collar. 'We need to talk, lady. Outside.'

She smiled pleasantly and removed his hand from her collar. 'No thank you. I'm boarding a train in three minutes with my subordinate. I'm going home.'

However they weren't letting her pass. Miles removed his gun and pointed it at them. They laughed. 'Stupid Ishvalan. Do you think we're unarmed? My buddy here has a much larger gun stuffed into his shirt.'

Miles didn't move. He glared at the man. How dare he treat Olivier like this? He wanted his General to fight back, but she wasn't. She calmly spoke. 'Okay. Let's go outside.'

He followed her closely, eyeing her, wondering if she was going to whisper an order to him. She was quiet. His heart thumped heavily when they exited the station and were escorted to a deserted area close by. When Miles turned, one of the men viciously kicked him in the groin. Miles didn't collapse, but he was unable to defend himself.

The side of Olivier's mouth twitched.

'You killed a friend of mine last night.'

Olivier looked at him. She barely reached his the middle of his chest. 'Oh. You must mean the guy who burst into tears because he was scared I'd hurt him. I remember.'

'Don't try and be funny.'

'I'm not. I'm only being honest.'

Miles watched her closely and the man. He was ready to pounce if they harmed her.

'Don't think you'll get away with it.'

'Do you think I killed him for no reason?' Olivier said.

'I don't _care_.'

She watched him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. Olivier met Miles' eye. 'Can you believe these people? They really think they're scaring us.' Her smile faded and she snarled at the larger bloke. 'Get off my back. You're wasting my time. I have more important things to do.'

'You don't frighten me.'

'Feeling's mutual.' Olivier shoved past him, catching the man off guard. In one quick movement, he removed his gun and shot her. Miles yelped. The bullet missed her by an inch.

The General dashed back and sliced the man in two. The other two men removed their pistols and began to fire aimlessly. Miles unbuckled his gun and shot at one in the arm. The man turned his attention on him and fired. Miles ignored the searing pain in his leg and continued to blast bullets towards the heavy bloke, until he finally collapsed.

'Fucking hate this place.' He heard Olivier whisper.

Revenge was like a circle: you kill one person, then another comes running after you for the same reason you killed that person. Now he understood why Olivier had rejected retaliation. He could see the realisation splatter across her face. There was no doubt these three men were cared for somewhere – someone would want to hunt her down personally. But she had many who wanted to kill her. It was only another one to the list.

She was in trouble. He was scared for her.

The train had no doubt set off by now.

'Ma'am. . . the bodies.'

Olivier didn't seem to have heard him. She slumped down, exhausted. 'I think Grumman's going to have a fit.'

* * *

><p>When the bodies were reported, the uproar had been applauding. A commander was allowed to kill someone <em>if<em> the situation had been fatal. However it would have been preferred if the victims were knocked unconscious. Olivier had been away from Miles for the whole day, and he dreaded to know what would happen to her.

He had booked a hotel room for the night, and it was intended the two leave tomorrow morning. Whether that would be the case, he wasn't sure.

She arrived at midnight. He was still up. He had waited for her.

Olivier looked at him once, before proceeding towards the bathroom.

'Where are you going?'

'For a shower,' she said, her voice tense.

He slowly sat down again. She reappeared after fifteen seconds.

'How do you work it?'

Miles smiled and made his way to the bathroom. He inspected the shower's controls for a second, before pulling one of the handles. Scorching hot water splashed over them both. She screamed at him to turn it off, and he quickly pushed the handle. Olivier recovered before he did.

'Sorry,' he whispered.

Olivier leaned towards the handle. 'Idiot. It says "Hot" and "Cold". This shower is quite formal.'

'Then wouldn't you know how to use it?'

She ignored him and carefully pulled the handle, and turned it slightly anti-clockwise. 'Okay, thanks for your help.'

He nodded and turned away.

'Don't you need a wash?'

He turned to her. 'Aren't you–?'

She nodded towards his bullet wound. Miles had completely forgotten about it. He gritted his teeth and panicked slightly. 'I can fix that. I've done it many times on myself.' He cringed, unsure if he wanted her help. 'Remove your clothes.'

He slowly obeyed, his self consciousness rising dramatically. His wound stung when he passed his trousers over it. When she turned to him, he noticed her eyes sweep over his well formed chest and then to his bullet wound. He turned away, afraid what pain she would cause him by "healing" it.

After a few seconds, he hadn't felt a thing. He looked at her and she was looking at him, her expression sarcastic. 'You're a real pussy when you want to be.'

He cleared his throat and stared straight ahead. Something warm touched his wound and he inhaled sharply. Olivier ignored him and continued to remove the blood around his wound. After a while, she revealed a small knife and a pair of. . . were those _tweezers_?

Miles backed away.

'Oh come _on_.'

'Miss, I really think–'

'You really believe I haven't done this before?'

He swallowed. Was he testing his trust on her? Miles sighed and moved forwards. 'Okay.'

For a moment, the surgery seemed acceptable, but then she began to cut him open a little bit to grab hold of the bullet. He gritted his teeth and scrunched his eyes closed whilst she continued. How could she have done this to herself?

'I'm done.'

He opened his eyes, a tear escaping. She wasn't looking at him. She grabbed a glass from the mantel piece and dropped the bullet in. 'I've seen bigger. . .' Olivier pulled a face. 'That's what she said.'

Miles couldn't hold back the chuckle. Another minute passed, and she had wiped the blood away and covered his wound in a bandage. Before Miles could say anything else, she began to remove her clothes. He almost choked.

'Ma'am–'

'It's all right,' she reassured.

It was all right. Miles wasn't panicking. The shock only lasted a few seconds. He joined her in the shower, forcing his eyes to only look at her face. His mouth opened a little when he noticed a large scar across her neck. Innocently, his eyes looked down her figure. She was covered in injuries, and some had barely formed scabs yet. He looked away, surprised. Her body was neglected awfully.

'What did – um – they say?' He stuttered.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. Then realised what he meant. 'Oh. They spoke to me for hours about a load of bullshit, and then gave me a warning.'

'Is that it, ma'am?'

She shrugged, uncaring.

Desperate to distract himself from her scars, he grabbed the soap but in his panic dropped it. Olivier passed it him.

'No thanks,' he said.

'Don't you want it?'

'I'm finished with it.'

'You didn't use it.'

He sighed and gave her a look. She smiled. His heart leaped.

'I'm fine. I. . .' he blinked, his eyes catching her wounds again.

Olivier knew what was wrong, but didn't mention it.

* * *

><p>'Are we heading back tomorrow, ma'am?' Miles asked an hour later, his body covered in a dressing gown the hotel had provided. She sat beside him, dressed the same, eyes scanning a book in her hands.<p>

'That was the plan.'

'_Was_?'

'My dad wants me to stay awhile.'

'How come?' Miles cringed. That was probably a stupid question.

However she shrugged. 'I'm not sure.' They sat in silence for a while. She moved and faced him. 'I apologise for the way I acted last night.'

His heart fluttered. 'No. No, it's understandable.' He was lying, but he respected her for apologising. 'I'm sorry about Katherine. I didn't know you were close.'

Olivier swallowed and hastily removed herself off the settee. 'We weren't.'

'Can I ask something?'

She stopped at the door. 'Yeah, what's wrong?'

'How did she die?'

Olivier squinted her eyes at him. 'It was at Mustang's promotion. She and a bunch of other girls were there. The guy had shot her from a roof.'

'Why did they kill her?'

Her eyes swept over him and her voice was unusually high. 'I don't know.'

Miles knew she was lying.

* * *

><p><strong>author's note<strong>: GAWD! This took me years (hours) to write. I appreciate if some parts were a bit mindfucking, but I intend to clear everything up as this crazy fiction goes on. Thanks for reading, lovelies! My back hates me :)  
>P.S. I think Olivier became OOC, and I really tried that not to happen. If she did, do tell me and, if you can, tell me what she would have done instead.<br>P.P.S. I have no idea what punishment Olivier would get for killing someone who had tried to kill her. Meeehhhh. . .


	2. Chapter 2

**author's note**: I have changed the rating of this fiction to T, but I may have to change it to M, I'm not sure. You can't control what you write. I'm onto writing chapter 5 right now. Hope you enjoy  
>Oh, try and catch hints of MilesOlivier in this. Some are pretty big :P (I hope they're in character!)

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><p><span>The Black Sheep<span>  
><strong>Chapter 2.<strong>

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><p>'You're not going to drop it, are you?'<p>

'No sir.'

Roy sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. He secretly adored his subordinate, but sometimes she was a pain. Her stubbornness was unbelievable, and whenever she felt the need to poke her nose into something that had nothing to do with her she would always receive the facts. Roy wished he had her talent. Unfortunately he didn't and even after nearly two decades he didn't know how to make her lose interest.

He swept his eyes over the office. Admittedly, it was good of her to wait for everyone to leave, but still: was she really that bothered?

'It's between me and Olivier.' Roy cringed slightly. Hopefully Riza wouldn't get the wrong impression.

The Lieutenant was calm. 'I see. Maybe I should ask her–'

'_No_!' Roy shot to his feet. Hawkeye blinked, perplexed by his response. A smile crawled over her face.

'This is getting interesting. Sir, you told me to check if there was a dead body near Central bridge this morning. Major Armstrong told me his older sister had gone missing the night before. Now. . .' Riza leaned towards him. '. . . Fill me in. How did you know about the corpse, sir? You had something to do with it, didn't you?'

Roy pursed his lips. He wished she would come a little closer. He could make her shut up easily. Despite an unhealthy farewell to General Armstrong this morning, he still felt he should keep her murder a secret. He knew she would do the same. Then again, Hawkeye was the most trustworthy friend Roy ever had, and Olivier shared a mutual trust too.

He dropped his pen. 'You must keep this confidential.'

'Of course, sir.'

Roy swallowed and leaned over, whispering, 'Major Miles came and found me last night to dispose the body. I burnt it until there was nothing left. I asked you to check if it was still there, because I didn't want anyone to find it, obviously. I don't know if Armstrong would lose her position if they discovered she had murdered an innocent man. . .' Riza widened her eyes. He hastily added, 'But the guy shot her sister – I think, so he wasn't all innocent.'

She lowered her gaze and there was a long silence. Roy chewed on his lower lip, watching her. Riza met his eyes. 'Is she still in Central?'

Mustang scoffed. 'You're mad if you want to talk to her! I tried this morning.'

'Yeah, _you_ tried, sir.'

'She had gone back to Briggs with Major Miles.'

Riza was unconvinced. She straightened up and scratched the back of her head, thinking deeply. There was a wait. 'Will you excuse me, sir?'

He hated the sound of that request. 'Yes, Lieutenant. Be back soon. . . Tell Olivier I send my hugs and kisses.'

* * *

><p>Philip was in enough stress beforehand, and it was surprising he didn't explode when he discovered his daughter had murdered three "innocent" gentlemen. He hadn't yelled at her. In fact, he did the exact opposite, welcoming her inside and seating her and Miles down hastily. The Ishvalan felt awkward to be in such fine hospitality because he was so unused to it.<p>

The General had a hunch why her father was keen for her to be here. He wanted to keep an eye on her, not wanting the same fate for her like his youngest daughter. Olivier would have shoved his nicety away, but decided to give a little sympathy. She gathered the pain she felt was ten times worse on her parents.

Olivier froze when her mother embraced her firmly. Her arms remained by her sides, and it was like hugging a statue. Miles noticed the woman's eyes had widened in shock. Did her mother not give her comfort, or had her mother _learnt_ not to? Miles saw her face was tear stained when she revealed herself.

'The military in Central are dealing with the murder,' Philip said. His voice sounded strained. Miles' heart throbbed with sympathy. 'I hope they catch this man soon.'

'Why not let me?' Olivier suggested lightly. Her parents looked at her as if she had grown a third hand. 'I can find him, and deal with him.' Miles frowned. Hadn't she already? 'It won't be a problem–'

'No!' That was her mother. Miles had never heard her shout before. Even Olivier was shocked. 'I will not have _you_ searching for more ways to get yourself killed.'

'I can do this though,' Olivier said firmly. 'You doubt me?'

'Well you wouldn't understand how I feel right now, would you? I've just lost a child, and I don't want to lose another. Just stay out of this, _please_.'

Miles swallowed, looking between the two. Olivier fell silent for a while, watching her mother wipe away stray tears. The Ishvalan caught a glimpse of guilt sweep over his General's face, and it was weird to realise this woman – this ice Queen – was somebody's daughter; a child.

The Grandfather clock ticked and tocked. Finally Olivier spoke, although her voice had lost some of its coolness.

'I've been in far more dangerous situations than this.' She was choosing her words carefully, not wanting to make her mother burst into more tears.

'You think Katherine wants you to avenge her?' Philip said.

In a second, Olivier's confidence was viciously pushed aside. She stared at her old man for ages, before lowering her gaze. Miles clenched his fists. He knew how she felt – she had given him the same attitude when he wanted revenge for Ishvalans.

'No.'

He felt a strong affection towards her for admitting that. Miles wasn't familiar with Olivier's youngest sibling, but knew her well enough that she was sweet and caring. She wouldn't want death to happen for her. He then noticed the General was trembling a little. Was she mad? He swallowed. _Please don't be angry_.

'I must leave,' Olivier said, her voice cracking slightly.

'If you must.'

Olivier ignored her mother's broken voice, and left the manor, Miles hurrying behind. He curled his lips. She was walking incredibly fast, and he almost had trouble keeping up. Something was bothering her. Had Katherine's death finally hit her? Miles felt frightened. It wasn't right for Olivier to be _upset_.

They strolled across Central park, and he realised they were heading to the station. Something – something very noble, but dumb – made him grab her hand and pull her to him. Olivier gasped. His heart stopped. She never gasped.

'Ma'am. . .' He tried to study her eyes, but was failing to find an answer. He wanted her to recognise him as a friend; someone she could talk to. He lowered his voice and spoke gently. 'Are you all right?' His heart was rushing, afraid of her response.

'Whether I'm all right is irrelevant,' she said sternly. 'I've done my work here and I must depart. I should have gone back to Briggs yesterday.'

'I care. . .' He swallowed, feeling sick. 'I care if you're all right.'

'You're wasting your time, Major. You shouldn't care so much. You'd make a pathetic soldier if all you did was care about others. How another feels isn't your concern. If you care you'll trap yourself. Don't let emotions corner you. You're a stupid man if you care about how _I_ feel.'

Miles recognised she was punishing him. Her expression when her father had inquired of Katherine made him feel sorry for her. While her father had a point, he had touched a soft spot.

'Fine.' He struggled with his words. 'I'm a stupid man.'

'What are you saying, Major?'

Miles realised she hadn't removed her hand from his grip. She hadn't pushed him away. For some reason, he felt triumphant about that. Her question sent a pulse of fear through him. He was treading on egg shells. 'Nothing ma'am,' he released her hand. 'Nothing.'

Olivier studied him for a moment.

'General.'

She turned around and was face-to-face with Hawkeye. Olivier contained her surprise. 'Why are you lurking around here when you could be signing papers, Lieutenant? I'm sure your fabulous Colonel will miss you.'

'He's a General, ma'am.'

'Oh. . .'

'Can I speak with you?' Riza inquired, her eyes darting to Miles then her.

Olivier turned to him. 'Go.' Miles obeyed. 'What's the matter?'

Riza knew Olivier wasn't in a happy mood, but that didn't put her off. She had experienced General Armstrong's rough temper before, and the two always left on good terms. Hawkeye was also surprisingly confident around the steely woman, and the question she was about to deliver wasn't difficult. 'An incident happened last night concerning you. General Mustang informed me–' Olivier opened her mouth to speak, '–I don't care what he says. I want to hear it from you, miss.'

Armstrong stiffened her shoulders. 'Why are you interested, Lieutenant?'

'Because I know the feeling. I can relate, but I learnt that if you swallow yourself in vengeance it turns you into a monster.'

'I'm not avenging anyone.'

'Maybe not now.'

'What do you want me to say, Hawkeye?' Olivier said, gritting her teeth.

'Nothing. I don't expect you to say anything, General.' She looked towards the station where Miles was waiting. 'You going back to the North?'

'I am.'

Riza turned to her. She lowered her voice. 'Are you sure that's wise, General? Don't you want to find out who murdered your sister?'

'Unless you don't recall Mustang's story, I already have.'

There was a pause.

'There's more than one man, isn't there?' Riza challenged.

Olivier tutted. 'Has anybody ever told you you're a pain?'

'I want to help.'

The slightly older woman smiled a little. 'Are you implying. . . I should go on some wild goose chase?'

'That's exactly what I'm implying.' Riza glanced at her watch. 'I should go now. Sorry for disturbing you, ma'am.' Olivier didn't reply. She watched the young woman walk away. 'The General sends his hugs and kisses by the way.'

* * *

><p>The transceiver crackled constantly, and Olivier was close to throwing it across the room. She had been attempting to connect to Briggs for the past hour, and so far had no luck. Olivier wondered if the hotel room had bad signal. Those five stars it had received were going to be dropped when she complained.<p>

Miles had been distant with her whilst she tried to connect. It was only when he grew tired of the constant crackles and curses he came to help her. Olivier allowed him to lean across her, and in a few seconds he had successfully worked the radio.

He smiled by her blunt expression.

'Tar.'

After half an hour, she had cleared her absence and left someone reliable in command for the next few days. Miles had a hunch she didn't intend to stay long. She hadn't revealed her conversation with Riza yet, and the Ishvalan had doubts she ever would.

It was already nearing six in the evening.

'Are you hungry?'

He looked at her. 'A little.'

'I'm starving. Let me take you somewhere.'

Miles blinked and watched her walk out of the room. He followed. 'Ma'am, I have nothing to wear.' He was still wearing his military uniform. Olivier glanced at him and pursed her lips. She scrunched her nose. He recognised her expression as embarrassment.

'I happen to have found something that I guessed would look good on you. However it may look awful.'

He was thankful she turned away to collect whatever it was. He was starting to blush. His General had bought him something? He felt touched. No one had bought him anything in his life. She returned shortly after, holding a white tuxedo by the hanger. His lower jaw fell. It looked amazing!

'How much was that, ma'am?' He hoped it wasn't a lot.

She frowned. 'Note this, Miles: Don't _ever_ ask the price of something that was given to you.'

He closed his mouth. She passed him the clothing.

'Go try it on and be quick.'

Miles didn't want to keep his General waiting, and, excited, he changed his clothes. The size was perfect, and he loved the comparison of the bright material compared to his dark skin. He inspected himself in the mirror, turning to the side, running his hands down the smooth jacket.

He heard a chuckle from the crack in the doorway. Miles turned to find Olivier peering at him, amused by his fascination of the tuxedo. He wanted to smile at her, but instead he turned back to the mirror, pulling up his tie further.

Miles was about to leave the room when he had a thought. He turned back to the mirror and released his thin hair. It remained brushed backwards, and fell over the back of his head. He was happy he still looked masculine, and it felt nice to have a change. His white hair made him look almost ghostly compared to the white tuxedo.

He stepped out of the room and found Olivier waiting for him. She hadn't changed completely: she still wore her military trousers, but had removed her jacket, now only wearing a white, fitted shirt. Even though she had undone the first few top buttons, her neck was covered. She was hiding her injuries.

Olivier craned her neck back a little and her eyes drifted down his figure. Miles felt a tad self conscious when she didn't say anything and opened the door. He followed her out of the hotel, and she escorted him to a large, fancy-looking restaurant. Miles swallowed, his timidness kicking in.

Inside it was huge. Two spiral staircases led to an upper landing, and the place was crowded. The carpet was a lavish red all around the restaurant, and jazzy music emitted from somewhere nearby, but was hushed by the noise of chatter. Fortunately there was no queue, but by the looks of it, he and Olivier weren't going to find a place to sit.

'Don't worry,' she said, as if she had read his mind. 'My dad owns the place.'

He smiled, amused she sounded so spoilt.

A waiter appeared and instantly recognised her. He stuttered a little whilst he led them to a table up the stairs, and hastily removed a sign from the table saying "reserved". Miles felt awkward when he sat down opposite her, the waiter passing them menus.

'You're tense,' Olivier said, reading the menu. 'You need to calm down.'

'Ma'am.' He looked at his menu. And didn't understand a word. Miles glanced at his General, panicking slightly but she hadn't noticed. He tried to read a word, but failed. 'Miss Armstrong?'

She rose her eyes to meet his.

'I don't understand this. I'm sorry.'

'You haven't learnt French, Major?'

He bit his lip. Miles may have touched on it, but when he was a recruit, he spent more time learning English. He didn't want to disappoint her, and was worried what response she would have if he revealed he didn't understand French. She clicked her fingers. Miles watched in awe as a waiter hurried over.

'Miles needs an English menu.'

'Of course.'

The waiter returned with the required menu. 'Thank you.'

'No problem, sir.'

Comforted, Miles read what options were available. He chewed his lower lip, still failing to understand what the courses were. He felt ashamed. He was one of the toughest soldiers in Briggs, and he didn't understand _English_! Miles exhaled, and almost choked when he saw the cutlery. He had way too many spoons, knives and forks. Surely there had been a mistake. He looked over to Olivier, and saw she had the same amount of cutlery.

He carefully picked up a curved knife. What on _earth_ was this used for? And why did he have two glasses? He would only need one. Also, why was there a smaller plate provided? Was it for people who were having tiny meals? Or was it for young children? Miles didn't find any children in the restaurant, and saw adults were using the small plates. How peculiar.

Miles removed the mat from underneath his glass and put it aside. He then piled the unnecessary cutlery away. Miles found Olivier frowning at him.

'What _are_ you doing?' He was relieved she didn't sound angry, but felt a little annoyed she sounded amused.

'Sorting out my cutlery, ma'am. I'm convinced they've made a mistake with yours too.'

'No, they've set out my cutlery perfectly.'

'If I may, ma'am: that's a peculiar shaped spoon. What would you need that for?'

Olivier picked up the spoon. 'It's for having soup, Miles.'

'It is?' Miles frowned hard. 'Um. . . Oh.'

'Do you Ishvalans not have soup?'

'Of course, ma'am, but we don't need spoons. We drink it from the bowl.'

'Some of us do that,' Olivier said. 'Yet it's uncommon. Miles, before anyone starts giving you looks of disapproval, I'd return your cutlery back to where it was.'

Miles began to pick up his knives, but stopped. 'I do not know where they go. . .'

'It's quite simple: you work backwards,' Olivier picked up one of the spoons. 'This is for your dessert, so you would place that nearest to your plate.'

'Why? You don't eat dessert first, ma'am.'

Olivier cocked an eyebrow. 'Miles: I was born into the wealthiest family of Central, and possibly the most upper class family you'll find around here. Do you think I'm unfamiliar with cutlery?'

Miles shook his head. 'No, miss. I apologise.'

He observed whilst she repositioned his cutlery back to how it should be. The waiter soon returned, and Miles' eyes were as wide as saucers when Olivier stated what she would like. He swallowed and panicked a little when the waiter asked for his order.

'I'll have the same.'

Olivier pulled a crooked smile.

'I didn't know you liked the bouillabaisse, Miles.'

'Yes, it's my favourite, ma'am.' He had no clue what she had just said.

She snorted. 'Righto. What kind of meals do you Ishvalans have?'

'It depends. They're mostly herbs mixed together, or blended into soup.'

'So you eat herbs?'

'And abondas.'

'Vegetables,' she said. Miles nodded sheepishly.

'That's what I meant.'

'You don't eat meat?'

'That would go against our religion, ma'am.'

She raised her eyebrows and leaned forwards, interested. 'How come?'

'We believe animals should be respected, just like us humans. They have the same soul, and if we ate an animal it would be seen as eating one of us.'

He was expecting her to laugh. He had told a few Briggs bears about this religious rule, and they would either take the piss or just laugh. Olivier didn't. She didn't argue against his belief. He knew she didn't agree with it, but she had respect. She would accept his bizarre rule.

'We don't have restaurants either, ma'am.'

'That sucks.'

'Not really,' he replied. 'Restaurants aren't needed in Ishvala. We would share a home for the evening and eat with others. We'd take it in turns to cook meals.'

Olivier nodded. 'That sounds like something little kids would do after school. Mustang tended to go over to mine to have dinner when we were younger. Then, believe it or not, we'd play these dumb games in my room.'

'You couldn't play games inside a house in Ishvala. Each home is considered a place of worship and needs to be respected.'

'Your God controls you a lot.'

Miles frowned. A spark of anger shot through him. 'God? _God_? Ishvalans don't worship _a_ God like you Amestrians do. It sickens me we're stereotyped to being like you. Your Chief is considered more mightier than any of you, but in Ishvala you're equal. Our Chief is no different to us.' He hushed himself, shocked he had spoken so rudely to her. 'I apologise, ma'am.'

'Don't apologise.' She was unnerved. 'You have every right to defend yourself.'

Miles caught sight of a gash across her collar bone. He wanted to say she was accidentally revealing her injuries, but was cut off when their food appeared. Miles widened his eyes by what he had been served. A mixture of fish had been neatly scattered on his bowl, leaves placed atop. The waiter poured a red liquid into his biggest glass, and the Ishvalan took a hesitant sip.

He recognised the taste and put the glass back instantly.

'Do you not like it?' Olivier said.

Miles looked at his dinner. 'I can't eat meat, miss.'

'I'm sure your. . . I'm sure the _thing_ you worship won't mind you having a one off with meat.'

Miles hadn't expected her to say something so outrageous! 'Ma'am, I appreciate my way of viewing things is completely unusual to you, but don't insult me.' He didn't know what he was doing. His heart was racing, his mind was blank and he was almost on his feet.

'Sorry,' she said. 'I didn't think about what I said.'

'It's okay, ma'am. I'm sorry if I embarrass you–' he stood up.

Olivier shot up. 'Miles, don't be ridiculous. I wanted to bring you here for an experience. I have no intention to insult you in any way. You do not embarrass me at all. We can change your meal, it's not a problem.'

He exhaled slowly and sat down. He couldn't think properly when she clicked her fingers for the waiter to appear. He never knew she could be so kind. Most wouldn't have the patience for him. She did though, and she happily allowed him to have a "vegetarian" meal.

However guilty thoughts pushed into his head: he was making a fuss in a restaurant owned by her father. Wasn't she bothered by this?

'Would you like another drink?' Olivier asked.

'Oh. . . No, don't worry about it.'

'I don't want you collapsing from thirst, Major.'

He caught himself grinning at her. 'Is there any squeezed fruit? Um–'

'Fruit juice?'

'Yes, miss.' He pretended he hadn't noticed the softness in her tone.

'Mm-Hm. What would you like?'

'Orange juice?'

Miles was given his preferred meal after ten minutes. He said a quick thank you to the waiter who bobbed his head and walked off. The Ishvalan drifted his eyes past the General, and spotted several scars where her flesh was revealed. His heart throbbed. Miles blushed when she covered her injuries with her shirt.

'I think you should be proud of them, ma'am,' he said, frantic to let the words out.

'I don't want to put you off your dinner.'

'You're not,' he said. It was the truth. Her scars didn't disgust him. He was concerned for her. She clearly didn't care for her body, and that hurt him.

Miles had taken his fifth bite, when he realised Olivier hadn't even started. She played with her fish tediously, flicking it to the side with her fork. The Ishvalan stopped eating.

'Are you okay?'

Olivier dropped her fork onto the plate. She frowned. 'Something's wrong.'

'I'm sorry?'

The waiter returned to them, and Miles wondered if Amestrians were supposed to order their dessert during dinner. 'Miss Armstrong? General Armstrong is on the phone and he wishes to speak with you.'

Miles' heart leaped. He stood up when Olivier did, and she told him to sit down. He reluctantly obeyed. He waited for ages, and began to feel agitated. She returned, and he was on his feet again when he saw her expression. She looked puzzled – awfully puzzled.

'I – um. . . I need to go, Major.'

'Miss–'

'I've paid for the meal, so take your time to have yours.'

Miles walked over to her. 'What's happened?'

Olivier fidgeted. She looked as if she was fighting back a scream. 'I don't know. But someone has a huge grudge against me.'

'Where are you going, ma'am?'

'To the hospital. I need to go alone. Good night.'

Miles wanted to grab her hand. He refrained himself. 'I'll go with you.'

He was expecting her to push him away and scold him for acting so pathetic. When she looked at him, Miles didn't recognise her. Her mask was slowly slipping. 'Don't bother,' she said quietly. 'You'll get in the way.'

He already missed her the moment she turned away.

* * *

><p>Miles dozed, but didn't sleep. Whilst his eyes rested, his ears remained alert for the sound of Olivier entering. She never did. The time whizzed past, and it was half three in the morning when Miles finally opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling, imagining where she could be and what was happening to her. Was she safe? Was she all right?<p>

He thought back to their conversation in the restaurant about his religion and the way she had acted. She hadn't buckled away from his strong argument, but she had accepted it and given him full respect. It was so hard to find an Amestrian who appreciated the views of an Ishvalan. It was hard for an Ishvalan to find a friend.

Olivier might not be warm and lovely, but there were traits about her that Miles liked. She was confident, arrogant and didn't care what others thought of her. Yet she pushed herself too hard. She had been given challenges sometimes above her standards, and she foolishly accepted them. It irritated him when she wouldn't accept a compliment or refused to accept she couldn't improve; that she was perfect.

_She was perfect_. To him, at least. _She had always been perfect to him_.

He groaned and rolled onto his side. Miles' feelings towards her were confusing. When he was young, he failed to receive friends due to his bloodline. It was frowned upon to be half Amestrian back then, and barely any Ishvalan warmed up to him. He was bullied and tormented. But then _she_ came along and accepted him. She even _respected_ his attitude towards her race. How could he not fall for her? This strangely wonderful person had entered his beaten life and given him respect. She was bizarre, and he didn't know how to deal with his obsession.

Over the years, he grew close to the other men and the experience of being accepted became complete. He was no longer infatuated with his commander.

Miles realised he hadn't fallen for her then.

Not like this.

The door opened.

Miles kept his eyes wide open whilst he heard her feet shuffle across the floor. He then heard her approaching, and waited for her to enter her own room. Her footsteps stopped. Miles swallowed, his heart pounding against his chest.

He heard a faint knock against his door.

'Come in.'

She didn't speak. He heard the door open and close. Heard her walk to the other side of the bed and felt her crawl in.

'What happened, ma'am?' He whispered.

'She was shot, but survived.'

Miles widened his eyes. 'Who?'

'My mum.'

He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he should look at her. He didn't need to. Olivier rested herself against him and slept in silence.

When he was certain she was in deep sleep, Miles wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

* * *

><p>'Wow, your ego is even bigger than mine!'<p>

Roy was far from happy to know his rival hadn't left Central, and was displeased when she decided to wait in his office for his arrival. He had no idea how she got in without the key, and wasn't sure if he wanted to ask. It would be five more minutes until his colleagues would arrive.

'You think I'm trying to flatter myself?' She asked.

He looked away. 'Right. Let me get this straight: you think someone has a big grudge against you and wants to hurt you by. . . hurting your family?' He pursed his lips and snorted. 'Right.'

'Fuck you. You'd make a crap Führer. While you Central assholes have been doing sweet, innocent paperwork, up in the North you'd be blown away by what goes on.'

'Oo, impress me.'

Olivier was silent for a few seconds. 'I used to torture people.'

'_What_?' Roy screamed, shooting to his feet.

'Calm _down_. Gosh, you've had the worst reaction out of everyone I've told.'

Mustang inhaled deeply. 'Okay. Um. . . Who told you to _torture_ people?'

She rolled her eyes. 'This was years ago, Mustang. Bradley wanted information out of some people, and gave them to me to deal with. I decided to experiment around.'

'These people you hurt want to kill you now? I honestly don't blame them. I'm surprised they can still walk around though.'

Olivier cocked an eyebrow. 'That's the thing. I wasn't _just_ harming adults.'

'What?' It clicked. '_Children_ too? Like, little babies?' He gasped. 'You're unbelievable! I'd quite happily kill you here and now.'

'Moron, that's not what they want!' Olivier retorted, now growing impatient. 'They want to hurt _me_ emotionally, not physically. Katherine's death wasn't an accident.'

Roy slowly widened his eyes. 'They're killing your family to hurt you?' He raised his eyebrows. 'That sounds fair. . . But I like your family. How many are there?'

'Oh let me think,' Olivier said, her sarcasm heavy. '. . . I don't know, Mustang.'

'You got a plan?'

'Yes, I do. Who has the next promotion?'

Roy clenched his fists under the table. 'Several people along with Hawkeye. It's in two days. You're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?'

'I think I am. Now I can't believe the words are coming out of my mouth, but will you help me?'

Roy smirked. 'I'd be honoured.'

* * *

><p>Olivier had been gone for hours, and Miles was tempted to go out and search for her. He forced himself to stay indoors though, as she had commanded him to stay by the transceiver in case Briggs needed to contact them. For the moment, there didn't seem to be any problems in the North.<p>

He entertained himself with the radio and a game of cards. The time swept away slowly, and the Ishvalan began to drop off. Someone laughed loudly over the radio which made him awake abruptly. Cursing lightly, he turned the volume down.

Miles brightened when he heard the apartment door open. He watched Olivier enter, and she seemed to be in a hurry when she walked to him. 'Any news?'

'No,' he said whilst she walked past.

'There's something I need you to do. In two days Hawkeye and a few others will be having their promotion. During that time, I want you to be looking out for anything suspicious, especially in tall buildings for snipers.'

He frowned, not quite understanding this order.

'I've discussed with Mustang how we're going to corner these culprits. Hopefully at least one of my relatives will be there, and it's a good chance one of them will be targeted.'

'You're using your family as bait, ma'am?' He asked, bewildered she was taking such risk.

'. . . I know it sounds foolish, but I've spoken to Mustang how this will work. If his Central dogs do as they're told, then it should go down smoothly.'

Mustang, Mustang, Mustang. . . Miles sneered slightly. She had discussed this plan with Roy Mustang, not him. He felt a little rejected. His commander wasn't very fond of Roy, so why had she made plans with _him_? Miles faltered. He couldn't believe he was jealous.

'I'll do what you tell me to, miss.'

Olivier quickly looked at the clock, 'I need to go again.' His heart dropped. He wanted her to stay a little longer. She walked past him, giving him a small smile and exiting the apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

**author's note**: You'll hate me for what happens at the end of this fiction. Thank you for reading, and I appreciate the reviews you sent me for chapter 2. Most encouraging!  
>This is the shortest chapter out of the whole fiction, and I have mixed feelings on it. I hope you enjoy either way :)<p>

* * *

><p><span>The Black Sheep<span>  
><strong>Chapter 3.<strong>

* * *

><p>"<em>NO! STOP!"<em>

"_I will stop when you start telling me the truth, you pathetic bastard."_

_Daddy sobbed loudly when his four-year-old child was dragged in front of him. The toddler was puzzled and frightened to death, tears pouring from his eyes. He hated to see his daddy look like this and had no idea who this lady was. She swivelled a knife beside his ear, her hand gently holding his shoulder._

_Daddy gritted his teeth and struggled from the blue jacketed men. _

"_Daddy?"_

"_Don't cry, Johnny. Don't cry."_

_Johnny felt the cold blade against his cheek. He squealed. _

"_I don't want to hurt him," the lady said cooly. "However if you don't start answering me, I'm afraid I'll have to."_

_Daddy squirmed and held back a scream. "Don't lay a finger on him–!" He gasped when the lady nipped Johnny's cheek. The boy screamed and burst into tears. _That was just a small cut! _Daddy couldn't imagine the noises his son would make if this bitch was to hurt him anymore. _

"_All right. Just. . . Just put down the knife and let my son go," Daddy said as calmly as possible._

_Johnny heard her chuckle. "Nice try, but I'm not soft. You've messed with the wrong people. Now I don't think your child can be kept waiting. . ."_

_Daddy swallowed. "No. . . Don't–"_

_His child's screams made him cry. Blood leaked from his cheek. The lady gripped his hair and pulled him to her. _

"_You. . . You would hurt a child?" Daddy exclaimed._

"_I've hurt many. Another one doesn't bother me in the slightest."_

"_You're a monster."_

_The lady sneered and slashed with the knife, Daddy's yells echoing the room._

* * *

><p>Olivier towered her custard creams carefully after two o' clock had ticked past. It was early in the morning, and the apartment needed light for her to see. She was near the end of the packet and the tower was almost as tall as her. She heard a door open nearby, but continued to pile her biscuits.<p>

He had slept for a few hours. However he woke up at twelve, and gave up trying to fall back to sleep. He hadn't expected to find his commander also wide awake. . . and towering custard creams? Miles frowned, finding this behaviour, for her, rather odd. Olivier didn't see the problem as she delicately placed her second to last biscuit on.

When she had finished, she finally turned to look at him. 'You think there's a form of Alchemy that can make you smaller?' She looked at her tower. 'I wouldn't mind living in this. . .'

'It would smell sickly after a while, what with all the sugar,' Miles explained.

She rose her eyebrows. 'Good point.' Olivier took one and passed him another. 'Have you had these before?'

'Yes, although they were rare in Ishvala,' he said. He took a double take when he spotted how Olivier had eaten hers. 'You don't eat them like that,' he sounded as if she had offended him severely. She frowned at him. 'I can't believe you eat your biscuit like that.'

She scoffed. 'Apologies. I didn't know there were specific guidelines on how to eat a custard cream.'

'No, miss,' Miles sat down next to her. 'You can get so much flavour if you eat them like this.' He removed the top and then showed her the icing in the middle. 'I always lick this off before I eat the biscuit.'

'That is unnecessarily time consuming.'

'It's worth it though.'

'But not really.'

She was treating him like he was Mustang. He grinned. 'Yes, actually, it is worth it. Try it, ma'am.'

Olivier rolled her eyes and snatched a biscuit from her tower. She followed his instructions, but ended up breaking the top half. She gave him a look.

'You're too forceful–'

'Oh good _God_,' she said.

'Lick the middle.'

Olivier slowly raised an eyebrow at him. 'Lick it, eh?'

He wasn't sure what her expression meant. 'Yes, ma'am.'

The General slowly licked the icing, giving him a very suggestive look. Miles swallowed, realising he had made a fool of himself. She was taking the piss. 'Is that what you meant, Miles?' She whispered, edging closer to him and tenderly licking the remaining treat. He watched in some form of awe. He found this strange behaviour attractive. . . wait – _what?_

'Miss!' He said abruptly. She raised her eyebrows. 'Um – yeah, that's how you lick the icing.'

'Is there a special way to eat the biscuit itself?' she asked.

'No. You just eat that normally.'

'Oh,' she looked disappointed and returned back to where she was seated. Miles cleared his throat. 'I'm guessing you can't sleep either, Major.'

'Not very well, ma'am.'

'Worried?'

'Why would I be worried?'

Olivier shrugged. 'About tomorrow. You're clear on what you are going to do, right?'

He nodded, but that wasn't why he was concerned. He was worried for her. If this plan went terribly, what position would that put her in? He couldn't imagine what she would feel. He didn't want to tell her though, afraid she would scold him. She didn't like being fussed over.

'I am clear on it, yes.'

'Then don't get in a state about it,' she said sharply. 'If you panic, then you're useless.'

It was almost funny to witness her change of attitude in a few seconds. He quite liked the other side of her personality. 'Yes ma'am.' He wanted to ask if she was all right, but refrained himself again. 'Who's appearing at the promotion?'

'My dad is.'

Miles nodded. 'Does he know the plan?'

'Of course not! He wouldn't go ahead with something so reckless.'

* * *

><p>By the hour, the area was completely crowded. Olivier found this perfect because her culprit would have trouble to find her old man – that is, <em>if<em> they were going to shoot him. She wasn't confident what was going through this vengeful person's mind. She spotted several of Mustang's men prepared and guessed others were on higher ground.

Miles had disappeared before she could say anything to him. Olivier wasn't too bothered, but felt a pang of disappointment. It was a silly emotion, so she pushed it away. She barged her way past the crowd, until she was in a secluded corner. She felt for her gun, before speaking quietly into her mouth piece.

'Did the dog find his bone?'

'_You bet he did_,' Mustang answered happily.

Several minutes swept past, until the area fell into silence. Führer Grumman began to speak, but Olivier couldn't hear his words. She was too focussed on what was happening around her. She swallowed and looked around at where Grumman was speaking. Her father was standing near the centre of the crowd, which would make him harder to find.

Olivier was tense. She could _feel_ Mustang's men hurrying up staircases, and searching landings for any snipers. Her heart throbbed with doubt. This wasn't going to be as easy as she had predicted.

'_Mama Bear: second floor, hotel two blocks away._'

She widened her eyes from Mustang's frantic instruction. He had caught sight of something. Quietly, Olivier entered the building he had informed her, and removed her gun, tiptoeing up the staircase. She forced herself to be calm, her eyes focussed before her, gun ready. Grumman was half way through his speech.

Roy spotted Olivier through a window, and turned his binoculars back to the sniper he had spotted. He inhaled deeply, unsure if he should call for backup or wait. He turned his eyes to his subordinate who was lined with several other colleagues.

It was horrifically silent.

She barged the door open and aimed her pistol towards the sniper. He didn't move. In fact, he was completely still. Was he deaf? Olivier frowned and carefully stepped closer. She then realised what was wrong. This man looked frightened to death. He was crying silently. The sniper was tied to his shaking hands.

A ball formed in her throat.

'It's a trick,' she whispered.

Miles widened his eyes when he heard his commander reveal that. He swallowed and exhaled gently. A round of applause erupted from the crowd.

Mustang tensed, and frantically looked in each building. _Where the fuck are you_? Someone was here, certainly. Someone clever.

Olivier hadn't moved. She watched the scene through the window, her heart thumping rapidly. She had no time to act calm. Someone had fooled her. Someone had humiliated her. Someone _knew_ her.

The applause died down.

Miles saw something.

'I–'

Thousands of shots exploded through the area. Roy screamed and ran down the steps frantically, removing his gun and pointing it aimlessly. The crowd dispersed quickly, and he was unable to find who had shot. Mustang gritted his teeth and rushed over to Miles who was in the same position as he.

'Did – Miles, did you see something?' Roy exclaimed.

Miles didn't know. He couldn't think. He couldn't find Philip anywhere.

Suddenly Mustang yelped in pain. Someone had shot his arm. Miles panicked and looked in the bullet's direction. No one was there. He glanced upwards. Nothing. Goddammit! _Nothing_.

He pressed his ear piece. 'Miss? General?' He wasn't getting a response. '_Olivier_?'

'_Calm down_!'

Miles sighed in relief when he heard her. She sounded tense.

'_Where are you_?'

'On the fucking ground,' Roy snarled, clinging onto his injury. 'That bastard got away!' He turned his head and found Hawkeye hurrying towards him. 'Did they get you?'

'No,' she said. 'I didn't find anyone who was hurt,' she widened her eyes by his bloodied arm.

'It's okay,' Mustang said. 'I'm fine. Where's Philip? Bloody hell.'

'I saw him. He was unharmed,' someone called a few metres away. Mustang and Hawkeye watched Fuery walk towards them. 'He's being escorted with several others back to the manor.'

Then Roy began to laugh. 'My God! That son of a bitch wanted us to panic.' He spoke into his ear piece. 'General, get your ass down here.'

'_Give me a moment. I need to sort something_.'

'What?' He didn't receive a reply. 'What was that? Oi!'

Miles looked over to Roy. 'What's she doing?'

'Fuck knows. She says she's got to sort something.'

The Ishvalan knew she had spotted something, and a twinge of fear erupted through him. She was capable of defending herself, but she wasn't capable of controlling her emotions. He met Riza's eye and she nodded faintly. Miles removed his gun and dashed towards the Armstrong manor, ignoring Roy's exclaim of confusion.

He ran as fast as he could. He ran so hard his thighs ached for mercy, but he kept going. He hoped he wasn't too late. He hoped he would catch up with her. _Goddammit, please don't be too far away_!

Miles' heart leaped when he spotted her several feet away. She hadn't revealed any weapons yet, and didn't seem to be in a hurry. He stopped and slowed his pace, watching where she was headed. They continued for several minutes, until she paused. Miles waited for her to keep walking, but she remained put.

He didn't see clearly what happened next. Olivier swiftly removed a pistol from her belt and shot to the left. Miles heard a yelp, and she hurried towards her target. He followed and peered around the corner. A young man was sprawled across the ground, clinging onto his shoulder that pooled with blood. He snarled at her and she viciously kicked his face.

The Ishvalan couldn't move his feet when she shot the man in the foot. He screamed in agony, and tears poured from his eyes. Miles had to move.

Before Olivier could cause more harm, he ran towards her and somehow managed to snatch the gun off her. She was about to attack him, then recognised who he was. He had never seen her look so furious, and even backed away a little.

'Give me my gun, Miles.'

He clung onto it firmly. 'You won't be needing it, ma'am.'

Olivier glared. He had never disobeyed an order before, and he felt more shocked than her. He trembled with fear, preparing himself for what she would do to him. He may have the gun, but her blade was neatly tucked away in her jacket.

She didn't harm him. She turned away as if he were a stranger, and faced the injured man. 'You thought you could make a fool of me?' She snapped. 'Nice try, but I saw you running away like the coward I'm sure you are. You couldn't have made it more obvious.' Miles grabbed her arm before she could remove her sword. This was the second time he had dishonoured her. She didn't glare at him. She looked. . . shocked. Olivier angrily shoved her arm away, 'Don't touch me, Ishvalan!' He recoiled. What had she called him?

'I'm surprised you haven't been dismissed!' the man exclaimed at her. 'You're vile. Not to mention you have _Ishvalans_ in your army–' He was cut off when she kicked him under the chin. He flew back, unconscious. Olivier snarled and retrieved another gun from her belt, pointing it towards his limp body. She was going to kill him. She was blinded with anger.

In a second, Miles was in front of her, forcing her weaponed hand down.

'You let me go or I'll sack you.' Her voice was cool and convincing, but he knew she was bluffing. He knew her too well.

'Go ahead, but you'll have to kill me if you want to kill this man.'

She began to tremble. Miles didn't move. He watched her eyes reveal everything that was going through her mind. Puzzlement, anger, hatred and, finally, defeat. Olivier looked away from him, and dropped the gun. He released her. She turned away, not speaking. He had humiliated her. But he made her realise her fault.

* * *

><p>It was a blur: one moment he was standing between an unconscious man and his commander, the next he was in a small waiting room with Alex Armstrong. They had been sitting for the past ten minutes for the culprit's interview to finish. Alex was especially quiet, and barely showed any enthusiasm to seeing Miles like he usually did. The affect of his sister's death, and what had happened afterwards must have had a huge impact on him.<p>

Both Majors were finally asked to step outside. They were led to a slightly larger room, where the culprit was fastened to a chair with handcuffs, and had three military personnel, including Olivier and Roy, in front. Miles' commander ignored him completely.

The culprit was awake, but he looked furious. He continued to glare at Olivier, hating her. Miles was eager to know what grudge he had against her.

'You wanted everyone here,' Roy said. 'You going to start talking?'

'Certainly,' he said cheerfully. 'General, do you remember a little boy called Johnny?'

Roy snorted and turned to Olivier. She was unnerved and continued to watch him.

'You know? The boy you tortured until there was barely anything left of him?' The man was screaming now. Tears pooled in his eyes.

Miles couldn't breathe. What had he said? Olivier had tortured? A boy?

'Did you really think you could go on without anyone wanting revenge on you? I hate to burst your bubble, but quite a few of us are out there, ready to chop you up into little pieces whilst you're still breathing!'

'I doubt they would be capable of even laying a finger on me,' Olivier replied, smiling slightly. She didn't seem at all bothered about what the man was saying. Miles didn't dare look at Alex's expression. 'Yes, I remember "Johnny". I also remember several other children whose parents were too reluctant to speak.'

He sneered. 'That kid was me!'

Olivier laughed, sending a chill up Miles' spine. 'I'm so scared.'

Johnny spat at her feet. 'I was innocent in my old man's dealings and yet you hurt me and killed my mother.'

A shadow swept over all of them. Roy clenched his fists, and looked towards Alex. Miles was frozen. He knew Olivier wouldn't bat an eye to murder, but. . .

'Thanks for reminding me. I forgot whose parent she was.'

Johnny yelled and struggled to release himself from the chair. Miles could see the anger in his eyes. He wanted to hurt her; kill her.

'I was the one who shot your sister,' he grinned. 'You killed the wrong man.'

Alex gasped. Roy stiffened.

A cruel smiled played over her lips. 'Great aim.'

Johnny's face fell in disappointment. He had wanted her to hurt him. Olivier turned and left the room swiftly. Roy was breathing heavily. He looked at Miles, then Alex, and then departed himself.

'You go,' one of the military staff said. 'I'll deal with him.'

* * *

><p>Miles walked through Central alone, his mind focussed only on Olivier. He didn't understand. He didn't know how to feel. He had worshipped her for years, and suddenly he felt as if he had been following the wrong person. How could that be? Olivier wasn't a bad person. She was one of few who spoke justice. He couldn't believe she had tortured children. Or tortured people in general. It was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong.<p>

He was sparking with adrenaline when he entered their apartment, but the moment he saw her his heart throbbed. He couldn't be angry at her. He simply needed to understand. He needed to listen to her.

He was on her side. _He would always be on her side. She would always have a justified reason_.

'Ma'am–' Miles faltered when she threw a gun at him. He caught it.

'Get it over with,' she said. He couldn't read her expression. 'If I'm gone, then no one will be hurt. Shoot me in the head. I don't want to die painfully.'

Was she serious? His hands trembled. 'No.'

Olivier sighed impatiently. 'You're the worst subordinate I could ever ask for! That's three times today you've disobeyed me. _Three_ times, Miles. I'm shocked you're still wearing your uniform. I'm dismissing you. Go!'

His voice broke. No. . . She was trying to make him hate her. She wanted him to shoot her. She _was_ serious.

She was stupid. So stupid.

Miles pushed away his fear and dropped the gun. 'I refuse.'

He couldn't lose her; he wouldn't know where to go.

'People want me dead-' _I don't want you dead_. '-And if I'm gone, then those sons of bitches will leave.' _What if I need you though?_ 'It's a situation that can be dealt with here, right now.'

They watched each other for what seemed years. Just by looking at her, he understood this woman inside and out. She had only done her job; her career. She didn't want to harm those children. It had scarred her inside, but, unlike most men, she had picked herself up and continued on. She had pushed away those haunting memories to live.

She wouldn't be the perfect commander if all she did was swell in guilt. Olivier wasn't like that. She refused to accept the guilt of her sister's death, and thus wanted to be shot so no one else could be harmed. It was reckless, but brave. She didn't care about herself.

Miles scrunched his eyes closed.

_She didn't care about herself_.

He didn't want her to go away. She meant too much for him.

Was she aware of that? Did she live in a world where she believed no one _cared_ about her? That world did not exist. Despite how cold she was to them, her family cared for her. She didn't know because she pushed them away. Behind Roy's cheeky demeanour, he was anxious of her safety, ashamed to admit it.

And there was one man out there who loved her. Who adored her and worshipped her because she was the world to him. She was oblivious; trapping herself in cold hands. She had grown into a heartless bitch because of herself – her career meant everything to her.

She only wanted to please.

'You're not worth it,' he said finally. 'They'll still want revenge, even after the one they want to hurt is dead.'

Olivier didn't retort. She didn't speak. She didn't move.

He had silenced her.

* * *

><p>Riza hadn't expected Roy to come knocking on her door at seven o' clock in the evening. He looked as if he was about to explode when he entered, seating himself at the table. He was puzzled, and concerned. He couldn't care less for that Johnny bloke. He was bothered about what Olivier had done. She was such a stupid bitch! Who in their right mind would harm a child?<p>

When he told Riza this, she snapped at him.

'We can't judge her for _hurting_ a child when we have killed thousands ourselves!'

Roy fell silent.

'. . .' Riza clenched her fists. 'What we have done is no different to what General Armstrong did. Fortunately for us, there weren't any Ishvalans who wanted to personally murder us. . . with the exception of Scar, and he came to forgive us anyway. We're lucky, Mister Mustang. We haven't got a family to scare us.' She tensed. 'I know that sounds cold, but. . . families can cause so much pain when they don't mean to.'

Mustang watched her quietly. He was frightened she would start crying. Riza never cried, but if she was to now, he would feel awful.

'Sir, we need to help her, even if she pushes us away.'

'. . . How?'

Riza bit her lip.

The phone rang, and the two of them jumped in surprise. Hawkeye considered not answering, but it seemed to ring forever. Riza cursed and picked up. 'Hello?'

'_Hi, Riza. It's Rebecca._'

Hawkeye raised her eyebrows. 'Oh. Hi. How's Spain?'

'_I heard about your promotion. Did you catch any of the culprits_?'

'Not personally.'

'_Riza, if I tell you this, you promise not to go running off and telling Armstrong?_'

Her heart stopped. 'I promise.'

Roy waited for his subordinate to hang up the phone. After five minutes, Riza gently placed the phone down and turned to him. She looked confused. Roy stood to his feet, walked over and held her arms. 'What did she say?'

'Um – one of them had been working in Spain. He was shot dead a few hours ago.'

Roy's heart skipped a beat. 'Who was?'

'Olivier's oldest cousin. Apparently they were very close.'

* * *

><p>That night, winter had made an announcement of its arrival. Snow gently fell to the ground, until a white blanket had been created. The churchyard was deserted; silent. In minutes his coat was covered in white powder. The snow sparkled against his tanned skin, illuminating him against the white blanket. Miles grew cold inside.<p>

She had deserted him again, but he knew where she was. He was in no rush whilst he strolled past the graves that became covered in white. She hadn't gone far. She had gone somewhere alone, where someone loving would be.

He found her. Miles stopped at her side and watched her face. She looked at ease, her eyes gazing at the gravestone before her.

'She told me she hated the military,' Olivier said. 'I thought she was just weak to think like that.'

'I'm sorry.'

She smiled lightly. 'Katherine wouldn't want us to mourn over her. She would have felt guilty.'

Miles' finger gently grazed over her hand.

Olivier held his limb and he squeezed affectionately – a reminder she was not alone. He was there; like many others. Olivier smiled.

Something made him wrap his arms around her shoulders, pull her close. She responded, wrapping her arms around his waist. He closed his eyes, imagining they _were_ together. There were no comments, no looks, just them. It felt like a ton of bricks were removed off his back - so relieving.

Olivier kissed him.

'Will you stay awhile?'

'I have nowhere else to go.'


	4. Chapter 4

The Black Sheep  
><strong>Chapter 4.<strong>

* * *

><p>Riza was used to pressure. She dealt with it since she a young age, and over the years it became a regular emotion for her. Her father was absent when it came to support, so she had to sort problems herself. This had its advantages, but sometimes not. While unnerved with pressure, she was timid dealing with it. Her suggestions on how to slip past tricky paths were not delivered with full confidence.<p>

Rebecca sounded desperate when she informed Riza _not_ to tell Olivier of her cousin's death. Catalina had managed to get out of Hawkeye about the corpse next to Central bridge, and was now aware of the young General's temper.

Hawkeye was in a difficult position: Olivier would be furious if she discovered the Lieutenant (or Captain if the promotion had gone well) hadn't revealed to her about her cousin's death. This would prove Olivier's suspicouns were true. Someone was hurting her by killing those close to her.

Riza considered why her commander had been shot. It wasn't an accident. He had been injured on purpose. Someone must have known Mustang and Olivier shared a mutual trust. Whether General Armstrong would show sympathy if Roy had died was a mystery.

It was fortunate Olivier wasn't fond of her family's company. The news spread quickly to the Armstrong manor, and it was only the oldest daughter who didn't know about the death. It wouldn't be long until she was informed though – if they could find her.

Roy didn't comment on the situation, much to Hawkeye's irritation. He clearly found what was going on tricky, and thus (wisely?) avoided it.

Why did the pressure have to land on Riza? _Why_?

There were days when she wished she didn't exist in the world.

* * *

><p>The General would curse if discovering she had slept in, but this morning she honestly didn't care. It actually felt nice to wake up at twelve in the afternoon, and the extra sleep was worth it. Olivier took her time to leave bed, and an hour later she had changed and lazily preparing breakfast.<p>

She hadn't noticed Miles had gone out until he returned. Olivier gave him a look. He looked flustered, and was holding something under the shirt she had bought him. It was a small lump, and she spotted some brown fur.

'The hotel allows animals,' Miles said, as if that cleared everything.

'Animals?'

The Ishvalan bit his lip and revealed from his shirt a small, tabby kitten. It curled neatly in his arm, dozing silently, paws outstretched. Olivier stared at it.

'I found him. There were a box of kittens in someone's garden. He was the last one,' Miles explained, rubbing the kitten under its ear. Olivier thought she heard the sound of a lawnmower, only to realise it was the kitten purring. Miles looked at her. 'Would you mind him staying here?'

Olivier frowned. 'You don't intend that furball go to Briggs, do you? It'll get squashed.'

'I'll look after him.'

'Not when you're working,' she answered sharply. 'That thing won't stand a chance.'

'Ma'am. . . Don't call him a "thing". He's a cat; kitten.' He carefully outstretched his hands to pass her it. 'Hold him.'

'No thank you,' Olivier said bluntly. She grabbed the milk. 'You're an idiot for buying him.'

'I didn't _buy_ him,' Miles corrected, gazing at the kitten lovingly. 'He was free. I adopted him.'

Olivier scoffed. 'What? How can you adopt a kitten?' She looked at him incredulously. 'That makes no sense whatsoever. You'd better get rid of it when we return to Briggs, Miles.'

He smiled wide. 'So we can keep him?'

She clenched her fists and watched the kitten with dislike. 'I didn't say that. I said when we return to Briggs, you get rid of him. I'm not having cat sick everywhere. Also, where will that thing know where to put its leavings?'

'Briggs is a dump anyway,' Miles muttered under his breath.

'Sorry?' She snapped.

'I said "yes, miss".'

She seethed. Olivier returned making her cereal, and when she made her way to the table Miles was _still_ in the same place, petting his kitten. She gave him a dirty look and sat down. The Ishvalan sat opposite her and gently put the kitten onto the table.

'No way!' Olivier said. 'Get that thing off. Can't you be a little hygienic, Major? I appreciate you Ishvalans worship these creatures, but seriously. Get. It. Off.'

Miles smiled when the kitten rolled onto its back to have its belly rubbed. 'Isn't he cute?'

'No. It's disgusting.'

The Ishvalan snorted. He looked at her, the kitten and then her again. 'You can stroke him if you want.'

'Tsk!' Olivier hastily ate her cereal. She stopped midchew when the kitten suddenly appeared in her view. It purred for no reason whatsoever and turned its nose towards her food. 'Don't you dare. . . That's mine!' She grabbed the bowl before the furry animal could satisfy its needs.

'We need to buy cat food. Litter trays too. Maybe some toys–'

'Why not just buy the thing a house whilst you're at it?' Olivier snapped, giving the kitten nasty looks as it reached its paw out to her.

'_Mraeow_. . .'

The noise was too sweet for her ears. Olivier almost shook by how cute the damn thing sounded. Its large eyes watched her constantly, mewing for attention.

'What does it want from me?' She asked, staring at it as if it had crawled out from the sewers.

Miles smiled at her. He couldn't help find her confusion adorable. He reached out to stroke the kitten's tail and it began to purr again. 'Just stroke him, General.'

She gritted her teeth and slowly patted its head. It purred enthusiastically, rubbing its head against her hand. Olivier pursed her lips. 'Okay, I get the jist it likes being stroked. How do you get it away from you?'

Miles picked up the kitten (it mewed loudly from the contact) and gently pressed it against him. The kitten purred and closed its eyes, happy. Olivier watched him hug the pet affectionately, and was a tad warmed. She hadn't seen him look so caring and loving before.

'We need to think of a name.'

'Oh don't!' Olivier said. 'Once you give it a name, you start forming a relationship with it and then things get complicated.'

'Where _do_ you get these ideas from?'

'Miles, you're getting rid of it soon, so there's no point giving it a name.'

He ignored her. 'I shall call him Ritu.'

'What the heck?'

'That was my grandfather's name, ma'am.'

Olivier nodded. 'Oh right.' She wandered her eyes over to a wet patch that was forming on Miles' shirt. She widened her eyes. 'It's leaking.'

Miles raised his eyebrows and lifted the kitten away, 'Oh.'

The kitten didn't become much of a pain. Miles spent more time with it than Olivier, unable to not pick him up whenever he saw the small creature. The kitten had a tendency to follow the other around, and it was only when the kitten had followed Olivier all around the apartment did she yell at it to "go away!".

Olivier had reluctantly gone to buy cat equipment with Miles, and by the end of their shopping spree she was full handed with carrier bags. How much stuff did one small animal need? This thing was going to be spoilt. But she would discipline it. That kitten was not going to get all the luxury.

For the remainder of the afternoon, Miles lay across the floor, lightly throwing a play mouse across the room. Ritu went crazy over it (probably because it whiffed of catnip) and dashed to catch it.

The moment he saw a white glove fall out of Olivier's pocket when she wandered past, he knew in a few minutes she would not be a happy bunny. Ritu snatched it with his mouth, and tugged it with its claws, rolling onto its back. It took the General a moment to realise her misplaced glove.

'Son of a–!' She pursed her lips, and threw a glare at Miles. 'Why do you love it so much? I'm looking forward to when we return North and it'll be gone.'

Miles smiled and passed her the mouse. 'Play with Ritu for a bit. He likes you.'

'Feeling isn't mutual.'

'General, cats aren't just animals. They can be so much more.'

A minute later, she was on the floor next to him, throwing the mouse across the room, although a little violently, managing to bounce the mouse off the wall. Ritu was more than happy to have _both_ parents playing with him, even if his mother continued to give him sneers.

Ritu grew tired and, without warning, snuggled against them both, purring loudly.

'You still hate him?'

'. . . He's all right, I suppose. I still think he'll get pummelled at Briggs.'

'He's barely the size of my hands, ma'am. You would have got pummelled at Briggs when you were that small.'

She raised her eyebrows. 'Major, I happen to notice you have been using an inappropriate attitude towards me.'

He couldn't refrain himself. 'Then sack me.'

Olivier scoffed at him and stood to her feet. Miles cringed, hoping he hadn't crossed the line. Oh God, he must have. He had never answered back. Suddenly a heavy, but soft square hit his head. Miles watched the cushion roll over.

'Next time you speak to me like that, it will be a sword to your head.'

Miles snatched the cushion and threw it right back. He burst out laughing, accidentally hitting her square in the face. Olivier growled, and an impish grin formed over her face. 'You want a pillow fight?' She threatened through jarred teeth. 'I'll give you a fucking pillow fight, you pathetic excuse for a man.'

Miles was one step ahead of her. Grinning he grabbed the nearest cushion and sent it straight for her. Olivier caught it and furiously sent the cushion spiralling back at him. The Major was amused by how she could keep a straight face when they were acting like children. Their cushion fight lasted for several minutes, until Olivier "accidentally" threw one at Ritu. He dashed off quickly.

'That's nasty, miss,' Miles said, appalled. 'You could have hurt him.'

'Tell him I said I'm sorry,' she replied sarcastically, her voice trembling a little from holding back a laugh.

'I don't think he likes you anymore,' Miles said. 'You were finally given a friend, and you chucked him away.'

Olivier tutted and turned away. 'He would make a crap friend anyway.'

Miles' adrenaline got the better of him when he pounced at her. For a second, she was completely taken off guard, but somehow managed to turn him over and pin him to the ground. Miles didn't know how she did it. He obviously had the advantage.

'You're still a little rookie, Miles.'

They whipped their heads towards the phone when it started to ring.

Miles felt disappointed when she removed herself off him to pick up. He never knew Olivier was actually fun to be around. He waited for her to finish speaking, but she was more listening than anything. When she spoke to him, her cold demeanour had returned and it felt as if what they had shared had been tossed away.

'That was Hawkeye.'

'Is everything okay?'

'No. My cousin's dead. He was shot.'

Miles widened his eyes and shot to his feet. _Not again_. 'Which cousin?' He hoped it wasn't the one he was thinking of.

'Jacob. He was working in Spain.' Her eyes drifted away from him, but he caught them water slightly.

His heart dropped. Olivier didn't speak much of her family, but he was aware Jacob and her had a fairly good relationship considering how distant she was. Out of the family Miles had experienced, he gave her the most attitude and tended to laugh whenever she attempted to act scary. He was fond of her, but wasn't afraid. To him, she was just a little girl.

Miles wanted to speak to her about this. He wanted to comfort her, but she refused to even say a single word to him. He backed away from her.

'I'll stay here then, miss,' he said.

'You do that.' She was gone in seconds.

Ritu purred at his feet. Miles was thankful he still had company.

* * *

><p><em>It had been twelve hours since Rebecca had called. Riza was quiet the whole day, only saying a quick 'hello' to whoever greeted her. It wasn't unusual for her to be silent, but Mustang noticed her distance. When lunch time arrived, he proceeded to her desk and asked if she wanted a drink with him.<em>

"_I'm okay, sir. I've got these papers to finish."_

_He snatched them off her. "Come for a coffee, Hawkeye, or I'll chain you up and drag you with me." He grinned. _

"_You've got chains, sir?"_

"_I've got much more as well."_

_Riza shot to her feet. "Where do you want to go?"_

"_The canteen."_

_Hawkeye gave him a sarcastic smile. "You're quite the charmer, sir. I'd be delighted to join you."_

_Grinning, Roy made a loop with his arm and she slung hers through. He escorted her out, down the steps and into the large hall where colleagues were being served their lunch. They sat down, secluded from the others, with a coffee each and a slice of cake between them. _

"_What's bothering you?" Roy asked._

"_Rebecca's phone call."_

_Mustang sighed and rolled his eyes. "Forget it. She told you to not inform General Bighead, so don't."_

"_I feel like I need to though," Riza said. "Call me stupid, but. . . I feel sorry for General Armstrong for not knowing. She was close to this cousin of hers."_

"_Does she deserve to know?"_

_Hawkeye glared at him. "I think she does."_

"_Lieutenant, she tortured children. She's vermin."_

_Riza watched him long and hard. She softened her expression. "You don't mean that."_

_Roy swallowed. "It doesn't matter. Look, if it bothers you so much, let _me_ tell Armstrong. Then Rebecca will have a go at me, not you."_

"_Sir, that is very kind of you." Riza meant it. "But I don't think Armstrong would feel better if _you_ told her. If she does like this cousin, then she might prefer to hear his death from someone she likes."_

_Roy smirked. "Don't flatter yourself."_

"_Sir," Riza lowered her voice to a whisper, and leaned closer to him. "These deaths aren't coincidences, are they? Someone is planning them."_

_Mustang lowered his gaze. He hadn't told her what Johnny had said about all of these people wanting revenge. Now he thought about it, the whole situation was stupid and cruel. Then again, Roy hadn't had his offspring tortured before his eyes. Olivier had been a young soldier back then – inexperienced. He had to give her credit. Yet torturing children would have never crossed his mind._

_He decided to reveal to his subordinate what Johnny had said. _

"_That makes sense," Riza responded, having a bit of cake. "Sir. . . Who will they kill next?" She met Roy's gaze. "I may be speaking out of term, but aren't her and Miles close?"_

_Roy laughed. "Come on, this _is_ Olivier we're talking about."_

"_Exactly."_

_He furrowed his eyebrows. "You think they're in a relationship?"_

"_No, sir, I don't think that. But I know those two are close."_

"_Like, me and you close?"_

_She grinned. "What are we?"_

_He sniggered. "I don't know. Friends, I suppose. . . Or something else. Eh–" he shrugged. _

"_If someone close to you had died, would you have preferred to have been told?"_

_Roy's smile faded. Flashes of Hughes' death entered his head. He jarred his teeth. "Of course, but it wouldn't do me much good."_

"_I have to tell her," Riza whispered._

"_Don't lay all the pressure on yourself. Think about it. If you want me to tell her, then just ask." His hand grazed over hers. She removed her hand from the table. _

"_Thank you, sir." Riza stood and left._

_She didn't speak to him for twenty-four hours. Roy had finished his lunch and was on his way to the men's rest room, when she came hurrying towards him. He widened his eyes by her flustered expression._

"_I'm going to tell her now."_

"_What? You crazy?"_

"_Yes."_

_Roy followed her to the phone section and watched as she picked one up. He chewed his lip and rubbed his temple. "Hawkeye, she might blow off steam at you."_

"_I don't care."_

"_Hm?"_

_Riza looked at him. "Rebecca _did_ want me to tell Armstrong, but she was giving me a choice. There are only a few people in the world who the General won't yell at, and one of them is me. Armstrong doesn't mind me, and if I tell her. . ."_

"_You sure?"_

"_Yes. It's comforting to hear someone's death from a close friend." She met his gaze. "You were with me when my father died in the hospital. You told me he was dead. I couldn't have handled it well if you weren't there. I needed someone I trusted to tell me."_

_Roy was touched. He smiled slightly. "You've thought into this. . ."_

_Riza didn't respond. She had already dialled._

* * *

><p>'Miles?'<p>

He opened his eyes and was shocked he had fallen asleep. A blanket was sprawled across his lap and Ritu was neatly curled in the blanket, dozing happily. He panicked a little when he realised his General had been waking him up. He began to stand, but she held his shoulder.

'You don't need to move,' she said gently, her eyes straying towards the kitten.

It was past midnight. The curtains were still open, and the dark was heavy in the small room.

'Can I sit with you?'

It took Miles a while to realise she had asked him that. 'Of course, miss.' Calling her "miss" sounded peculiar now. Over the past few days, their relationship had evolved into something completely different.

Miles passed her the sleeping kitten.

'Oh. . . thanks,' she murmured, reluctantly taking him in her arms.

Carefully, the Ishvalan inched closer and held her. It was like hugging stone. She was frozen in his arms. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I wish I could help. . .'

Olivier didn't respond at first. She stared ahead for a minute, thoughts whirling through her head. Then she pressed her lips against his. 'They want to bury him as soon as possible.'

'When is the funeral?'

'Tomorrow. I don't think I want to go.'

Did she fear someone was going to be there? Miles tightened his grip around her. 'I'll come along.'

'You don't need to.'

'I will.'

She didn't bother arguing.

* * *

><p>A sixteen-year-old grew fond of her during the day. Olivier pretended to not notice him when he followed her around or asked who she was called. She couldn't help be reminded of Ritu. Miles gathered he wasn't an Armstrong relation because of his jet black hair, so he must have been adopted. Miles preferred to be out of the way whilst relatives came pouring into the manor. He watched his General occasionally, wondering if she would give a sign to someone she disliked, but she was far too subtle.<p>

He received his first acknowledgement from a middle-aged man. He gave Miles a disapproving look, raised his eyebrows and walked away. The Ishvalan didn't feel put off at all. He didn't care what others thought. He was only here to support his commander. That was all that mattered to him.

When the teen was taken away by his mother, Olivier returned to Miles' side without a word, and remained with him for the next hour. Occasionally someone would talk to them, but they were alone most of the time. Miles was tempted to hold her again, but had a hunch she wouldn't be happy if he did. Even though she looked almost tedious, he knew inside she was breaking.

Miles was taken aback when she held his hand whilst they proceeded to the graveyard. He looked at her, but she didn't look at him. He frowned. What was wrong? He peered around his shoulder, as if expecting someone to give him an answer.

Olivier released his hand when they arrived at the coffin, several others already before them. In seconds, the place was crowded and Miles even had trouble seeing. All through the funeral, Olivier kept her eyes to the ground, fists clenched.

The teen came running over to her when everyone dispersed. He was frowning deeply, and looked irritated and confused.

'Why did they bury him?' He asked sincerely.

Olivier looked at him, then away.

'Missus?'

'You should ask your father,' Olivier said bluntly.

'. . . My dad's dead.'

The blonde looked at the boy again, and she noticed the colour of his eyes. Miles spotted himself. They exchanged glances. 'Was your father Ishvalan?'

'Yeah. . .' the boy looked at Miles, then her. 'He died during the war, I think. I dunno. My aunty didn't touch on my dad much. Anyway, why did they bury him?'

'Because he's dead.'

'No, I mean, _why here_? My uncle loved it where it snowed. Not where it was sunny.' The teen obviously had a mind of his own.

'He did like the snow,' Olivier agreed. 'But I don't think he would have cared where he was buried. Is your mother with you?'

'Nah,' the boy said casually. 'I'm with my aunty.'

'Where is your mother?'

'She's dead as well. My aunty said she died in a car crash.'

Olivier stiffened slightly. 'What's your name, kid?'

'Joshua.'

Miles swallowed when he saw Olivier's expression change dramatically. A wave of shock washed over her face the moment she heard the name. 'Joshua?' Her voice didn't tremble. 'Are you staying in Central?'

'For a week,' Joshua replied. 'Then I'm going back home.'

'Josh!' Someone called from far off.

The boy departed, leaving Olivier tense and stiff. Miles moved towards her. 'Ma'am, what's wrong?'

'Roy. . .' she said. He frowned. '. . . He. . .' She looked at him, slightly wide eyed. 'Roy is adopted. His aunty took him in when his parents died in a car crash. He had a brother who had just been born called Joshua. He was with them when the accident happened, and if I'm not mistaken they had left Roy at home with the sitter. Roy was thirteen when his parents passed on.'

'Is the boy that baby?'

'I'm not sure. Roy remembers there was something weird about his brother's eyes. It didn't add up. He said his parents used to row loads after the baby's birth, but he can't remember what they argued about. It could be that his mother had an affair with their servant.'

Miles widened his eyes when it all came into place. 'Was his servant Ishvalan?'

'Possibly.'

'Why didn't Mister Mustang speak of him?'

Olivier shrugged. 'He doesn't like talking about him. He pretends he never existed because he died so young, and I think he probably holds a grudge against him for causing his parents to row so much.' She searched for where Joshua had gone, and spotted him with a middle-aged woman. She was clearly Armstong related. 'He doesn't live with his aunty. He's adopted.'

They watched the teenager whisper something into the woman's ear. She turned towards Miles and Olivier, before walking to them, Joshua following behind. 'I see you've been speaking to my son.' Her voice was not friendly.

'I have,' Olivier replied, casting her eyes to the sixteen-year-old.

The woman threw Miles a dirty look. 'The poor boy suffers from an unusual colour in his eyes.'

'I think he's half Ishvalan,' Olivier said. She had clearly stepped out of line when the woman fumed.

'He is _not_! Joshua is a full-blooded Amestrian. He isn't a disgusting creature like the one standing next to you. Why is it here anyway?'

Miles wasn't nerved by the woman's words. However his commander begged to differ. '_He_. _He_ also has a name. And _Miles_ is here to give his respect. Ishvalan or not, he's more human than you or I. . . I mean, he's not the one lying to his adoptive child that he's a race he clearly isn't.'

The woman sighed. She wasn't the type to start an argument, and Miles had a hunch Olivier had silenced her. The adoptive mother was sensitive about her son knowing he wasn't a full-blooded Amestrian, but the Ishvalan gathered Joshua already knew. The teen watched Miles with faint interest.

'Are the rumours true?' That voice didn't belong to the woman. A man walked over to them, and he looked about their age. 'Apparently the only reason Jacob died was because someone wants to get to you. That'd explain the sudden death of your sister as well. What kind of deal is this?'

'Deal?' Olivier repeated cooly. 'I haven't made a deal with anyone.'

Several heads had turned their way. The man continued: 'I don't believe in coincidences. These deaths are planned; patterned. You were close to Jacob, right?'

'More or less.'

'Well, obviously something is up. Why won't you tell us? I really want to know, because I don't think I'll be keen on being the next death, and neither will my family.'

Olivier curled her lips. 'Don't worry. You won't be next in line. If you died, I honestly wouldn't care less.'

A few murmurs erupted from the crowd. 'Is this what it's all about?' Someone yelled. A young woman charged towards the commander, and it looked like she was going to hurt her. She stopped before her, glaring daggers. Tears leaked from her eyes. 'The only reason Jacob is dead is because of _you_? What the Hell? How does that add up?'

'Someone holds a grudge.'

The lady scoffed. 'Oh, is that it? _Someone holds a grudge?_ How pathetic.'

Miles realised this was what Olivier had feared. His commander knew fingers would point straight at her, because, in a way, it _was_ her fault. He felt incredibly sympathetic for her, but wasn't sure if she deserved this or not. _She didn't_. She had done more good than evil.

'I only came here to pay my respects, not to have an argument with someone I've never met before. As I clearly have nothing else to do here, I shall leave. Apologies for your loss.'

How his Queen hadn't shown a flicker of emotion when she walked away was a mystery.

* * *

><p>Roy swore quietly. Whoever was knocking against his door was making a racket, and really pissing him off. He had just returned from work, only to be disturbed minutes later. Couldn't he be left alone for a few seconds? Mustang threw open the door. He widened his eyes when he saw the last two people in the world who'd visit him.<p>

'I don't usually have more than one person in bed, but I'll be happy to try both worlds tonight.'

Olivier scoffed and pushed past him. Roy welcomed Miles in and closed the door. 'What's the problem, General Trigger Happy? I do not have any bodies you can beat in my home.'

'Stop pissing about, Mustang,' Olivier said. 'I've just returned from a funeral and met someone you might find of interest.'

'What's her name?'

'_His_, you dick. No, this is not a prostitute for you to pick up.'

Mustang recoiled. 'I wasn't exactly expecting a prostitute, you know.'

Olivier ignored him. 'Tell me about your mother. Didn't she have a relationship with an Ishvalan?'

'Wha. . .?' Roy frowned. All cheek vanished from his face. 'Um – she must have done. She gave birth to an Ishvalan kid, didn't she? Why? I don't want to talk about her or that boy.'

'He's not dead.'

Mustang fumed. 'What the Hell would you know? He _died in a car crash with my parents_. He was dead when they found him, okay? He couldn't have come back to life.'

Miles lowered his gaze, relating to Roy well. He felt this way when he finally met an Ishvalan after so many years, believing they were all gone. When Miles met Scar, he felt confused. It was weird to know his race still existed.

'–and even if he is alive, I don't want to see him!'

Olivier said nothing. She didn't understand how Roy wouldn't want to meet a brother he thought was lost. When Miles spoke, he made both of them jump.

'I understand how you feel, Mister Mustang. I felt objected to find out if my race were still alive. It feels better to not know, because there are less emotions for you to handle. Trust me, I've been in your position. Before I met Scar, I wanted to believe I was the last remaining Ishvalan in the world. It's a powerful feeling, but it's awful when you discover you're not alone. All along, someone precious to you has been alive and you never knew.'

Roy's face softened. Miles was correct about his feelings.

'Ignore what you feel right now. That's what I did. When I met Scar, I felt confused and slightly abandoned. However, after a while, you feel fine. Great, even. I. . . _We_ won't force you to do anything, but we're giving you an option. You don't have to meet this boy. For all we know, he might not be your sibling. However you may feel better if you saw him, but it's entirely up to you.'

Mustang was still for several seconds. He met Miles' gaze. 'Is he in Central?'

'He's staying for a week, sir.'

'Do you know where?'

'No, sorry.'

'I can receive information though,' Olivier said. 'I wouldn't doubt my old man knows about him or his "aunty".'

'Aunty?' Mustang frowned.

'She's an Armstrong; his adoptive parent.'

Roy lowered his gaze, and Miles shamefully had to admit he had never seen Mustang think so hard. After a while, he had an answer: 'Yeah, let's go see this kid then.'

* * *

><p>Mustang insisted they go to the Armstrong manor via car. The journey was considerably faster, and they were there in five minutes. Roy walked in confidently, familiar with the manor having stayed in it many a time. Olivier slung behind with Miles whilst the male General said to a butler he wished to see Philip Armstrong. He turned to them both.<p>

'If this goes well, I – uh – suppose I should thank you.'

'Let's just make sure it goes well first,' Olivier replied.

'Right.'

Philip acknowledged his daughter for a second, but to Olivier's relief he spent more time speaking to General Mustang about the child called Joshua. After ten minutes, Philip had given them an address and they were on the desired doorstep minutes later. The house was considerably smaller, but it still looked grand. 'What is it with you Armstrongs and big houses?'

The door opened, and it was a maid.

Roy stated who he would like to speak to, and was invited inside. Miles stayed with Olivier, guessing she wasn't keen on meeting the woman again after what had happened at the funeral. They stood in silence for a while. He shuffled the snow with his foot, glancing at her every so often.

'Thanks.'

It took him a while to realise she had spoken to him. 'What for, miss?'

'Talking to Mustang. I wouldn't have been able to convince him.'

'. . . It's good of you wanting him to see a relative he thought he had lost.'

Olivier smiled a little. 'Mad, isn't it? I'm actually all right every so often.'

He gave her such a warm smile in return she looked away quickly, pulling her coat higher over her collar. He could have sworn he had spotted the tiniest blush appear.

The door opened and Roy stepped outside. He was smiling faintly, and seemed to be in his own little world when he met them. It took him a moment to speak.

'It's Josh; my brother. He survived,' he grinned at Olivier. 'Thanks.'

She shrugged. 'I suppose you would have done the same for me.'

Roy smirked and hugged her tightly. Olivier hoped the squeal hadn't come from her, but from his chuckle she realised it had. _Damn_. He finally let her go. 'I feel like I could scream to the world I've found my brother. Haha, it's nuts.'

'It is,' Olivier agreed. She exhaled. 'There's a limit of hugs one can take. Actually, in these past few days I've had more hugs than in a decade.'

'N'aaww, Livvy's learning about affection.' He pulled at her cheek. 'Somebody's gwowing up!'

Olivier snarled and viciously removed his hand. 'Do that again I'll break your face.' Her eyes met Miles, and he instantly stopped chuckling. However he didn't see anger in her eyes – he saw _amusement_.

'We'll need to feed Ritu. He's probably starving,' Miles explained whilst they proceeded to the car.

Roy cast him a look. 'Ritu? Who's that?'

'Miles' kitten,' Olivier replied bluntly.

Mustang beamed brightly. 'You _must_ introduce me. Kittens are so cute.'

Olivier looked at both men and pulled a face. 'What is it with men and kittens? Jeez. . .'

* * *

><p>Roy was kind enough to give the officers a lift back to their hotel. As soon as they entered, Olivier walked straight past the meowing kitten ignoring him. Miles smirked, wondering if she was avoiding the kitten because she <em>did<em> think he was cute. Ritu happily chomped away at his meal Miles served him. The Ishvalan noticed his General hadn't appeared for the past fifteen minutes.

He walked towards the open bathroom door and peered through. What he saw made him inhale sharply through jarred teeth. Olivier had removed her shirt from her shoulder, and was redressing a nasty looking injury. Teeth clenched, she hastily peeled off the remaining plaster, blood over her fingertips.

'Miss. . .' He was startled and didn't know what to do.

'It's all right,' she said, voice tense. 'This has happened before. My wounds reopen – Ah!' Olivier hissed from the sting.

Miles grabbed hold of the moist flannel she reached for, and willingly dabbed the blood away.

'Your help isn't necessary, Major.'

He knew she would be rough on herself so insisted he do it. She was silent whilst he removed the blood from her wound, and he gently placed a plaster over it once he was finished. His eyes were drawn to the amount of scars across her flesh, and, up close, some looked new.

'Oh fuck,' Olivier muttered. She stood up and he saw the problem. Another injury had clearly reopened at her side. Miles turned his gaze away when she pulled off her shirt. He gingerly looked her way and widened his eyes.

'When did that happen?' It looked like she had been stabbed a little.

'It doesn't matter,' she said, taking the flannel off him. 'It's not important.'

'That's important, ma'am,' he argued.

'I'm _fine_,' she replied sternly.

Miles watched her wipe away the blood. She was so rough on herself. He was surprised her body was still mobile. All of these cuts, stabs and grazes – it was amazing how she hadn't complained once about it. All the new recruits at Briggs who complained about their grazes when they had no idea what state their commander was in.

There was no excuse to crumple to your knees. Whether you were missing a limb or not, you continue fighting – Briggs' rule had hit her the hardest. _She was Briggs_.

He pushed away their profession; his fear.

Miles held her hand with the flannel against her wound and kissed her fractured skin. He heard her inhale a little in surprise, but she didn't push him away. He placed his lips against her neck, and a small moan escaped her mouth. Miles stopped, wondering if he had hurt her. 'Don't stop.' Their eyes met, and she was completely open to him. There was nothing barricading them.

'Do you want to–?' He didn't know how to ask. It was a stupid question really.

Olivier nodded lightly, leaned forward and kissed his lips. They broke apart, then carefully kissed again. He held her close, his lips against her face, hands gently holding her wounded back. She ran her hands under his shirt, pressing herself closer against him.

In seconds, he had frantically straddled her to the bed, their limbs tangled together, kissing her with such enthusiasm she began to laugh. Miles didn't understand what was so funny. He willingly allowed his top to be pulled off, barely giving a moment to breathe before claiming her lips again. It took him a moment to realise she was pushing him away.

'Wait – wouldn't this go against your religion or something?'

Miles blinked, looking down at her, puzzled. 'Are you making fun of me?'

'No.' She laughed.

He kissed her. 'Just be quiet.'

'You're so commanding, Hercule. I like that in a man.'

Miles was a tad taken aback when she used his name. Before he could recover, Olivier grabbed him by the collar and closed the gap between them.

* * *

><p>'Are you sure about this?'<p>

'Well, I'm sure he wouldn't mind making a deal, sir,' Riza replied, confident as she walked towards the cell where her desired man was contained.

Roy was growing tired of being dragged outside so much, but he wasn't bothered with Riza's company. He was intending to tell her about his brother soon. They entered the cell, and Johnny awoke with a start. A sigh escaped his lips. 'Oh. More questions?'

'No,' Riza said politely. 'We want to make a deal with you.'

'_She_ does,' Roy corrected.

'Is there anything we can do that'll satisfy your vengeful needs?' Her commander snorted, mistaking her for taking the piss out of the man. Johnny, however, smiled.

'Yeah.'

'Great. But before we go further with this, you have to stop these killings.'

'I can do that. I started it all.'

Riza smiled, hating him. 'What do you want?'

'I want to speak to that Ishvalan she always hangs around with.'

'Miles?' Roy suggested.

'Yeah, whatever. I want to talk to him.'

Riza didn't like the smile he was wearing. She cast Roy an uneasy glance, but the Flame Alchemist didn't see the problem. He nodded. 'Sure. We'll bring him over tomorrow.'

* * *

><p>They walked back to the car in silence. Hawkeye was more fidgety than usual, clearly not keen on Miles speaking with Johnny. Roy didn't understand the problem. What could Johnny do to him? Some small talk mustn't be too harmful.<p>

To snatch her away from the situation, he spoke about how Olivier and Miles had found his brother and led Roy to him. Riza was startled to hear her commander actually had a sibling. 'Why do you not tell me these things, sir?'

He smiled warmly. 'Well, because I know you. If I told you about him, you would have gone on some wild goose chase.'

'Yeah, but I would've found him, considering he's alive.'

'I never wanted to meet him if he was alive, Hawkeye.'

Riza stopped and turned to him. 'You really owe it to Major Miles and General Armstrong. That was good of them.'

'Yeah. They make a good team,' Roy said. 'Quite like us. . .' He grinned. 'Come on, let me buy you a drink.'

'So you can sleep with me, sir?' She asked, raising an eyebrow.

'. . . Problem with that?'

Hawkeye punched him playfully. She grinned. 'You know, all you have to do is ask me out, sir.'

'Oh. . . Will you go out with me, Riza?'

'Not anymore, shit dick,' and with that, his subordinate walked away, a smirk over her face.

* * *

><p><strong>author's note<strong>: Riza! How OOC of you!  
>There shall be more on Joshua, but I think I want to write a separate fiction with a similar idea on Roy's lost sibling. Cliché, but I like the idea. I shall try and write it now actually =D Thank you for reading. I'm not good with love scenes, so hope Miles and Olivier's moment goes past the "acceptable" line.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**author's notes**: I am _so_ pushing Olivier's character in this chapter. I'm treading on eggshells. I hope it's acceptable :) Next chapter is the last, and because of what's in it I may have to change it to M (it's not _that_ bad though). Hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p><span>The Black Sheep<span>  
><strong>Chapter 5.<strong>

* * *

><p>She needed more sleep than he.<p>

Miles spent an hour lying in bed, dozing, waiting for Olivier to wake up. He wasn't keen on moving her away, when she fit so snuggly into his arms. The sound of Ritu meowing outside tempted Miles slightly, and after a minute of suffering the cute calls, Miles gave in. Carefully, he removed her arms from him and quietly left the bed, before pulling on his boxers. Ritu purred enthusiastically when he spotted his daddy, and he was soon fed. Miles turned on the kettle, slightly dazed, when he noticed something across his hands.

The Ishvalan gasped. He saw blood. His palms were covered in it.

Miles dashed back into the bedroom and shook Olivier awake desperately. He saw her reopened wound before she opened her eyes. Prints of blood were across the mattress.

'It's all right,' she said. 'I can close it again.'

'I want you to go to a hospital,' Miles ordered. He recoiled from his confidence. 'They can sow it properly there and you won't have this trouble.'

A small smile twitched over her face. 'I _was_ intending to sow this wound last night.'

He blushed. 'Sorry. Um–'

'I had more important things to attend to I suppose.' Miles thought she was annoyed at first, but thought differently when she kissed his lips. 'Before I go to a hospital – if you really think I should – I'll wash myself.' And with that, his General left the room with the sheet over her. Miles sat for a while, until she peered round the door. 'Are you coming or what?'

He smirked and followed her.

* * *

><p>'You've got a nasty amount of injuries,' the doctor said, inspecting the large cut across her collarbone. Miles smiled by Olivier's unimpressed expression. 'You should get these checked up.'<p>

'All I wanted was to have this sowed back.' She pointed towards the stab wound at her side. 'It had reopened.'

He examined it carefully and raised his eyebrows. 'You must have had a rough night. Moving around a lot, were you?'

Olivier and Miles exchanged glances. She smiled a little. 'Something like that.'

'Okay. Let me just go fetch the equipment.' He left through a door opposite. Once he was gone, Miles proceeded towards his General.

'It wasn't _that_ rough, was it?' He asked.

She smiled and kissed him. 'Nah, it was all right.'

'. . . All right?'

Olivier snorted. Before Miles had a proper response, the doctor returned with his required equipment. 'This should take a few minutes.'

Fifteen minutes later, the two exited the hospital, wounds sealed.

Since this morning, Miles hadn't felt well. He knew there was nothing wrong with him – he was perfectly healthy. Yet he constantly felt sick and clammy; almost feverish. He knew who was making him feel this way. Sometimes he wanted to run away from her, so he could be free from these feelings. He hated the pressure. It had only been a couple of hours since they had woken up together, and he already felt tired of trying to impress her.

It was silly really. She didn't need impressing. She wasn't the type to be impressed constantly by someone she already liked. They had known each other for years, so the pressure was unnecessary.

Miles wasn't used to this though. He didn't know what came next. Thoughts popped into his head that they had sex too soon. They should have built up a loving relationship. . . Or had they been doing that all along? He knew Olivier wasn't bothered by this. She acted eased around him, more so than usual.

What was peculiar was that she seemed. . . _happy_. Not _happy _happy. Just happy. She wasn't acting like his commander much, and he caught himself thinking she was an average lady. Was she pushing their profession away because of what was happening between them, or did she want a break from being commander all the time?

What happened last night felt like a series of events. He still couldn't quite believe what act they had committed together.

Maybe he shouldn't think too much into it. This may be a one off. When they returned back to Briggs, she would forget anything happened between them.

It felt like a cold dagger stabbed his heart by the thought. He had grown to like her more than he should. A sensational pulse inside wished she felt the same.

Miles didn't hear Riza, until the Lieutenant had started a conversation with his General. The Ishvalan took a double take, and quietly cursed himself for daydreaming.

'May I speak to Major Miles for a few seconds?'

Olivier shrugged. 'Yeah.'

Miles was a tad surprised Hawkeye wanted to speak to him. Olivier moved away from earshot, and the Lieutenant began to speak. 'Can you meet me after work at four?'

He frowned. 'Of course. What's the matter?'

'Oh nothing, I hope. Just meet me outside HQ. I'll be as quick as I can.'

Miles agreed to meet her, and she left him more puzzled than before. Olivier didn't ask what Hawkeye wanted to talk about. In several minutes, Miles was leaning forward against a wall, taking in a breathtaking view of what lay outside Central. He had never seen so much green and hills before.

His commander wasn't interested with the view and sat atop of the wall, staring ahead.

'Can I ask a question, ma'am?'

'Sure, but I might not answer it.'

He smiled. 'What's it like living in a city?'

'There's nothing spectacular about it. I preferred to be more secluded, but it depends on the person I guess.'

'. . .' He timidly ran a finger across the wall. 'I wouldn't mind living here.'

Olivier looked at him without turning her head. 'Really?'

'It'd be a nice experience.'

She strayed away from his gaze, her expression unreadable. 'You'd rather be here than at Briggs?'

'Not exactly, but I'd like to live in a house one day.'

'When you've retired, I suppose the option may arise.'

Miles pursed his lips and looked at her, cocking an eyebrow. She didn't look at him. 'I don't know if you're joking, ma'am.' She shrugged. 'You remind me of someone. . .'

Olivier frowned at him.

'When I was little, I used to read these comic books. In a series I really liked, there was a woman in it who was very similar to you. . .' He pushed himself to tease, '. . . She was nicer though.'

'Nicer?'

'Yeah – For one, she didn't scare people who were her allies. The similarity between you two is that she loved to kill people.'

He was screaming inside, afraid what response she would have. For a few seconds she didn't show any emotion, but then a smile rose. However this smile wasn't one she would usually give him: it was full of content and amusement.

'You still got those comic books?'

'No; I lost them.'

Miles felt his ears burn when she continued to watch him. He hadn't noticed how bright and awing her eyes were: a baby blue that innocently bore into his. She jumped down from the wall, and he became tense when she pressed herself against him. Miles found it weird she was smaller than he, considering the amount of power she possessed over others.

Actually, it was weird in general she was embracing him. Was she like this with a lover? Had she ever had a lover? Was this new to her as well? There were so many questions he wanted to ask about her personal life, but he felt objected to inquire.

He could believe she was human: she wanted affection like every other being in the world. She just never showed it, too trapped in her position as General and commander of Briggs.

Miles loved her this close.

He had to ask: 'When we return to Briggs. . .' He swallowed, dreading the answer, '. . . will we be back to how we usually were?'

There was a heartbeat. 'What do you mean?'

His face flushed. 'Will _this_ not happen at Briggs?'

She looked up at him, a light frown across her face. 'Why?'

'I was only asking, ma'am.'

A million thoughts whizzed through her head whilst she watched his face. 'Olivier.' She kissed him. '"Ma'am" isn't my name.'

It felt like a volcano erupted inside him. Miles was dazzled. 'Olivier,' the name rolled on his tongue, and it suddenly sounded beautiful to him.

'Does this mean I can call you Hercule?' A small laugh escaped her lips when he pulled a face. 'I know how much you love your name.'

He inhaled. She knew he despised it. Miles kissed her, desperate for her to not feel the satisfaction of silencing him. He hadn't a clue how long they had been lip locked for when they finally broke apart. He was a tad disappointed the teasing smile returned over her face. She hadn't forgotten the name situation.

Miles thumb grazed over a scar across her flesh. It was then he noticed she hadn't been hiding herself. Her shirt was slightly undone, and was not covering her completely. Fresh and old injuries glared at him, but he didn't cower. He smiled warmly.

'You're not hiding your scars.'

She shrugged. 'I know. Some idiot said they're something I should be proud of.'

'He sounds like a clever man to me.'

'He has his moments,' she said, inching closer to his face. 'I think he has a thing for me.'

'Really?' Miles asked, showing pretence surprise. He wrapped his arms around her waist. 'I think he's had a thing for you for a long time.'

She chuckled almost childishly. 'Sad loser.'

He kissed her cheek. She pulled a dirty look.

'I hate being kissed on my face.'

Miles grinned and took this as a fantastic opportunity to piss her off. He enthusiastically planted chaste kisses across her face, smiling when she exclaimed in disgust. 'With all due respect, you weren't complaining about me doing that last night.'

He knew he had pulled a string. Her cheeks flushed red so quickly he was concerned. Olivier removed herself from his grip and walked away, leaving him laughing.

* * *

><p>It was two hours before Miles would meet Hawkeye outside Central HQ. The time had whizzed past, but he wasn't bothered. Strange to admit, he enjoyed Olivier's company. Her sharp words became amusing for him when his mind registered the teasing tone. There were the occasional passer biers who looked twice when noticing their different races, but he was thankful Olivier couldn't care less about what others thought.<p>

However he felt like she wasn't _talking_ to him. He had a hunch many confusing emotions were swelling inside her. Her sister was dead, her mother nearly having the same fate, and her favourite cousin was gone as well. Then again, maybe she was showing him through affection. They kissed frequently, and not just because they had formed something between them. She needed the comfort. He didn't object to her comfort. In fact, he thoroughly enjoyed it, but he didn't feel like she trusted him completely.

They were on their way back to the apartment, when all sense of amusement left her face in one go. It scared him instantly. He watched her whilst her eyes darted to the other end of the corridor. Something wasn't right. He made to grab her hand, but she was out of his reach.

Miles slammed into the wall when something leaped out from the corner. It was a man. He had pinned her to the ground and held a sharp knife in his hand. Miles pounced on him, sending the man rolling across the floor. Olivier shot to her feet, swivelled around and sent her fist straight into a second opponent.

Miles wanted to know what was happening to his commander, but this man blocked his view. He swerved away from the knife, kicked his shin, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the staircase. The Ishvalan whacked him in the face, and barely missed the knife. He grabbed the man around the neck and pulled him forwards.

Miles lungs failed him for several seconds when he landed heavily onto his back. He had fallen from the landing, the man with him. He coughed and spluttered aggressively, and turned to his opponent who struggled to grab his knife. Miles kicked, pinned him to the ground and slashed the knife across his throat. He was dead in a second. The Ishvalan looked away from the blood squirting out of his injury.

He heard her upstairs.

Miles slipped on the steps in his hurry. His knees felt like jelly when he found her. This man was massive compared to her. She had left her weapons inside the room. She was unarmed. Miles felt a wave of panic, but he couldn't move. He was paralysed.

Olivier pulled at the man's hair when he pushed her against the wall, and he screamed in agony. Her knee went straight into his groin and she pushed him forwards with all her strength. She had battled creatures far more dangerous than this petty human – he was nothing.

She sat across his waist and weighed her hand against his face, muffling any sound. She squeezed his neck hard, and he squirmed beneath her, flailing his limbs pathetically. His eyes bulged from lack of oxygen, his hand reaching out for his dropped knife.

Miles watched the man's fingertips brush against the handle. The Ishvalan darted forwards and snatched the knife from his reach. He watched the man squirm and scrunch his eyes closed, desperate to scream. Olivier watched his face swell, turn purple, and then fall to the side limp.

The blonde stood. She grabbed Miles' collar and tugged him up forcefully.

'Go get Mustang. Tell him to come here now and quick. Go. _Go_!'

Miles awkwardly dashed out of the hotel.

* * *

><p>'They really hated you.'<p>

Olivier cocked an eyebrow. 'Thanks, Sherlock. Got any other facts I didn't know about?'

Roy exhaled and rubbed his cheek. 'Not now, no. I'm going to ask Johnny about this. He might know something. Heck, he might have started all of this.' He snarled. 'Fucking idiot. You could have died.'

She shook her head. 'Nah, they didn't stand a chance. They obviously don't know me well enough.'

Mustang sneered, then realised she wasn't bragging. She was right: these people _didn't_ know her well. If they did, they would have planned a better attack. Olivier wasn't stupid. She could tackle a bear with ease. . . She was freaky like that.

'Don't worry about the bodies. I can clear your name.'

She nodded, uncaring. 'You know, I thought these people wanted to kill my relatives. So. . . why did these people try and kill me personally?'

Roy frowned. 'Probably got impatient. Did you recognise them?'

'Of course not. Out of everyone I've seen, Mustang, parents who sob are the last I remember. Where's Miles?'

Mustang smiled. 'He's with Hawkeye. Apparently they had to discuss something.'

* * *

><p>The cell felt cooler than last time, and Miles wondered if Johnny was warm. He didn't complain though when they met. Johnny sat in his cell, eyelids half shut. He smiled towards the Ishvalan, but the Major didn't return it. There was a pause. Hawkeye was waiting outside for Miles, so it was just him and Johnny.<p>

Miles sat opposite him and allowed the younger male's eyes to travel down him. A content sigh escaped his lips.

'I'm surprised you came.'

'Talk to me,' Miles ordered, expression blunt.

Johnny's smile faded. 'I agree to call off the upcoming plans we have.'

Miles raised an eyebrow and stood up. 'Impress me.'

'There's a catch.'

'Of course.'

'Quit the military.'

It sounded simple and easy, but when Miles thought into it he shivered. Johnny was more clever than he thought. He wanted Miles to abandon his leader. The catch could have been worse, but. . .

'We also need confirmation you've done it. If you let me have my phone call, you'll be meeting some people in three days.'

The Ishvalan didn't respond.

Johnny sat upright. 'Look, if you let me have my phone call, then no one else will be killed. You've got to promise to quit though.'

'Why?'

'Hm?'

'I mean, _why me_? Why not ask someone else?'

A cruel smiled played at his lips. 'I don't see any harm in letting her suffer one last time.'

Miles smirked confidently. 'You really think she'll give a damn if I leave?'

'All right then.' He shrugged. 'Maybe you're right: she won't care. However you could be wrong. I like experimenting around. You never know your results until you've tried.'

Miles sighed and looked away. 'Okay. If I go ahead with this, will you leave her alone?'

'It's a deal.'

'Fine. I'll let you have the phone call, but I want to be with you whilst you do.'

'That's not going to be a problem.' When he smiled, Miles noticed his lip was swollen and had been sliced in half. He cringed, knowing who had caused the injury.

* * *

><p>Roy hadn't expected visitors. He wasn't keen to have anyone around his apartment after work, but anything was better than paperwork. He opened the front door and widened his eyes. It wasn't Armstrong, Hawkeye or Miles – it was Joshua. The boy grinned.<p>

'Hey. Can I come in?'

'Of course. . .' Mustang frowned and moved away. Joshua entered confidently and sat down at the table as if he had been to Roy's many times. It took the General a while to close the door and ask what the teenager was doing here.

'I wanted to see you, considering we're brothers. I wanted to talk about some things.'

Roy tensed and a pulse of anger sparked inside him. 'No. I refuse to talk about our mother or your. . . dad, okay?'

'Why?'

'Because I don't like talking about it!' Mustang scolded, glaring at him. Joshua was unnerved. 'Go and ask your aunty, not me. I couldn't be less interested.'

'Haha, that's a load of bullshit! If you didn't care, then why did you come looking for me?'

Roy swallowed. 'A colleague encouraged me.'

Joshua raised his eyebrows. He picked up a glass of gin nearby. 'Was it that blonde General? I saw her at the funeral. She's quite a looker,' he laughed. Mustang didn't. 'Was it her though? She got yelled at. My aunty hates her. Apparently the General despises her family and rarely visits them.'

'No, it was her colleague: Major Miles.'

'Oh. The Ishvalan.'

'Half-Ishvalan. His parents were Amestrian.'

Joshua frowned, clearly confused. Mustang sighed and sat down opposite him. He snatched the alcohol from the teen's hand.

'He told me has the features of his grandfather.'

'Tough luck. I'm guessing he had it tough during the war,' Joshua said.

Mustang stiffened. 'I don't know much on Miles' past.'

'My old man got killed during the war, didn't he?'

Roy inhaled sharply. He clenched his fists. 'No. He got executed for having sexual intercourse with our mother.'

Joshua fell silent. The two males sat for a long time, watching the table or the wall. Roy slowly grew impatient and asked if Joshua's aunty knew he was here.

'Of course not! She hates you too. If she found out I had gone to visit you, she would have had a fit.'

'Why does she hate me?'

'Because your mother had sex with an Ishvalan.'

Roy sneered. 'Yeah, well, so did your mother.'

Joshua smirked. 'She tries to look past that. It's not my fault how my mother conceived me.'

'Yeah, well it isn't my fault how–!' He cut himself off. Roy smiled, and then burst out laughing. Joshua pulled a funny face. 'I sound like a twelve-year-old. What has your aunty got against Ishvalans?'

Instantly Josh's smile faded. He frowned, and showed an anger in his eyes Mustang never knew existed. 'She's an Armstrong, and some of the Armstrongs are–'

'Assholes, I know.'

'Yeah,' Josh smiled. 'Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for aunty. Sometimes, though, she can get too far ahead with her views. She really bad mouthed Major – uh – what's-it after the funeral.'

'Miles? He's a nice guy.'

'I gathered,' Josh said, straying his eyes from Mustang's face. He was silent for a few seconds. He turned back to Roy. 'If she found out the General and Miles were having a relationship then–'

'Hold it: they're not having anything together.'

Josh frowned. 'Really? I thought they were. She was holding his hand at the funeral.'

Roy laughed loudly, but Josh failed to find the humour. 'Come _on_, Olivier wouldn't. . .' his smile faded slowly, '. . . She wouldn't, would she? I think you mistook her for someone else.'

'I don't think so. There was only _one_ Ishvalan – except me – at the funeral. He was holding hands with this blonde, and it was definitely her.'

'There were loads of blondes at the funeral. . .'

'I'm not yanking your chain!' Josh was now laughing. 'You don't believe me?'

'I've just met you.'

'She was wearing military uniform.'

Roy wouldn't buy it. 'No.'

Josh scoffed and grinned wide. 'Fine: blonde hair that went past her shoulders; blue eyes; uniform; heart-shaped face; around 5"4–'

'Oh God,' Roy moaned.

'See? I told you!'

Mustang jumped in his seat when he heard the phone ring. Joshua watched his older brother walk to the telephone and pick up. 'Um – hello?' There was a long wait. '. . . Oh, yes. . . Oh. . . Yeah, I'll be ready for then. . . Okay, I'll ask. Bye.'

'Who was that?'

Roy ran his hands down his face. 'It was Fullmetal–' ('_who_?') '–and he was reminding me about his wedding tomorrow. Winry demands on having Miles and his commander there as well. She's nuts.'

'. . . Can I come?'

Roy looked at him and frowned. A grin pulled over his face. He couldn't wait to see Edward's face when he discovered there were _two_ Mustangs.

'Heck yes.'

* * *

><p>It was half six when Miles returned to the hotel. He hadn't been able to see his commander after the deal he made with Johnny. It had sounded smooth and simple at first, but now the idea slashed his heart. He was afraid what Olivier's response would be to him quitting. Would she not allow him? Would she not care? Miles didn't know what reaction he wanted. He didn't want her to be angry, but he wanted her to <em>care<em>.

The Major was surprised when she barely acknowledged him when he entered. Had she not noticed his absence? This annoyed him. He would have noticed hers. Maybe that was the thing: he was too clingy. He was living in a fantasy where she deeply cared for him and wanted him contacting her 24/7. Or did she trust him enough to let him be out of her way for more than two hours?

She had several sheets of paper before her, and was busy writing on one of them. He found it ironic a violent hand could produce small, neat writing. He loved the way she would curve her flicks in the letters.

He looked twice when he spotted Ritu curled into a ball beside her arm, purring into his sleep.

'Have you come to like him now, ma'am?'

Olivier looked at the kitten, then him. 'He's all right. We're leaving tomorrow, so don't get too excited.'

Miles' heart stopped painfully. He swelled in fear. '_Olivier_.' He was more shocked than she when he used her first name. '. . . Please stay. I. . . think you should stay.'

His General threw him a look of distaste. 'I beg to differ, Major.' He wished she was in the mood she was in this morning. He wanted to grab these sheets of paper, throw them away, and then pull her into his arms. It wasn't the deal with Johnny that was holding him back the most – he wanted _her_. He wanted her to ignore their positions. Once they returned to Briggs, she would act like nothing happened.

'We have nothing else to do here,' Olivier said. 'I need to get back to work.'

He didn't have a valid argument. He needed a miracle.

As if one cue, the phone rang. They let it ring several times, before the General reluctantly answered. 'Yes?' There was an agonising wait. Miles watched her, hoping there hadn't been another death. 'Tomorrow? Well thanks for telling me, Mustang!' The Ishvalan sighed in relief, but felt a twinge of envy. Why was Roy speaking to her? What was happening tomorrow? 'No thanks, I think we can escort ourselves there. . .' She hung up without a farewell. 'Fullmetal and his bird are getting married. I forget her name.'

Miles brightened by the thought. 'Miss Rockbell? They're getting married?'

'Yeah.' Olivier didn't mirror Miles' enthusiasm, but that wasn't surprising. She caught his eye. 'Do Ishvalans get married in Churches?'

He shook his head. 'No. It's tradition to be betrothed. You usually marry at fourteen. The ceremony lasts a whole day, and everyone from the village has to be a part of it. If you've not been married once by sixteen, it's frowned upon.'

Olivier snorted. 'Oh. You're a failure to them, Miles.'

'I was married, but not for long.'

She blinked quickly, as if dust had flown into her face. Olivier did well to conceal her shock. 'Who to? What happened?'

'We never grew close really. She was a nice person to be around. An Amestrian soldier killed her.'

Olivier's expression didn't quiver. 'I'm sorry to hear that.'

'It happened a long time ago.' He wanted to know what she was feeling, but Olivier acted almost uncaring. He inhaled. 'Can I ask something? At a wedding, do you Amestrians dance?'

She shoved her hands into her pockets and leaned against the wall. 'Some do. I've never been fond of it. Why?'

'You have a particular dance. Where the man and woman hold each other and move together.'

Olivier smiled a little. 'What do you Ishvalans call it?'

'Oh, nothing special. Just an Amestrian dance.'

'It's called a waltz.'

Miles' cheeks flushed in embarrassment from what he was about to ask. 'Can you show me it?'

Olivier watched him for a while. She tutted. 'What makes you think I know it?'

'I guessed, considering how you grew up.'

'I tried to avoid it.'

'Have you waltzed before?'

'Sometimes. Hated every second of it. One man I had to do it with stunk of soup.'

Miles sniggered and shyly inched towards her. 'I promise not to stink of soup, miss.'

'You don't stink of soup,' she reassured, smiling impishly. 'I would have told you.' Olivier remained in the same position for a while, and he waited whilst she considered showing him the dance or not. She sighed heavily and grabbed his hand. 'Put your hand on my waist.'

He was taken aback by this. 'Your waist?'

'Yep.'

He carefully placed his hand where she desired, and he flushed when she moved closer to him. Miles would never understand how she didn't blush when she placed her hand on his shoulder, and looked at him casually. This was a strange position to be in.

'You would have a waltz playing or some form of music, and you would step with the beat.' He stumbled when she directed him smoothly across. He noted how her feet moved and which direction they were headed. 'I really don't like this dance. . .'

'I don't mind it.'

She snorted.

It took them about ten minutes to get the hang of it. After a while, he noticed she wasn't leading him as sharply, and somehow they ended up simply holding each other.

'Just to confirm, I never did this sort of thing with my wife. We were hardly affectionate.'

Olivier raised an eyebrow. 'Wow, did I take your virginity?'

Miles blushed. From his lack of response, she sniggered and squeezed him affectionately.

'Don't need to be embarrassed, _Hercule_. For a first timer, you weren't that bad.'

She had said so many outrageous things in that sentence he didn't know which part to comment on. He ignored the name. 'So I'm acceptable?'

'Hm . . .' Olivier removed herself from him. She shrugged. 'You're average. . . maybe you exceed expectations.'

'I shall take that as an insult.'

'Well–' she wrapped her arms around his neck, '–When I start screaming your ridiculous name, you'll know–' He claimed her lips before she could say anymore.

* * *

><p>Edward and Winry's wedding was set for the evening, which gave the two officers a whole morning and afternoon together. Miles was happy his commander had plans for the day, and was actually excited to know what location she had in mind. Olivier told him to wear the trousers and shirt she had bought him.<p>

The train journey lasted about an hour. When the vehicle came to a halt, she led him out of the station, through a small town and they continued on a path for a while. Soon, a refreshing smell entered his nostrils and he inhaled deeply: salt. Sea.

She had taken him to a beach.

It was winter, so it wasn't warm, but the view was terrific. The salty water roared at them and exploded when hitting the sand. They were sprayed with the liquid, and the scent was magnificent. What was more, they had the whole beach to themselves.

'I never knew you for a beach person,' Miles said.

'I thought you might like it.'

This came as a shock. He raised his eyebrows and looked at her. 'Really?' She had sent him here just for him. A treat. Miles smiled, flattered. 'Do I owe you a surprise as well?'

'No thanks.'

They sheltered under some trees at the end of the beach, and had a perfect view of the furious sea as it bellowed at them.

Miles' heart dropped when he was sent back into reality. His deal with Johnny had still happened, no matter how much he wished it hadn't. He couldn't back down now. If he went ahead with this, then his commander would have no more trouble. For her, it was worth it.

He didn't know when to reveal his leave though. Just thinking about it caused a ball to form in his throat. He had been under her command for as long as he could remember.

'I suppose Mustang will be entertained.'

Miles cocked an eyebrow. 'Mustang?'

'He contacted me to say Joshua has been visiting him. He didn't sound annoyed by it either. We must have done him a favour.'

_We_ – he liked the sound of that. Miles inched closer to her until he could feel her warmth. He had grown to love her close to him. There was something about the way she breathed that contented him completely. Admiring her up close so many times, he simply found the way her skin felt and looked comforting. Her perfections couldn't be more clearer to him. He failed to find a fault in her.

Should he feel bright and happy every time he woke up to her sleeping beside him? Should he want to hold her constantly? Should he honestly be dreading the day they return back to Briggs because she would push him away? . . . Briggs. A home he could never return to.

'You're wrong, Hercule.'

'About what?'

'I wouldn't ignore what we've had when we return to the North.'

Miles felt paranoid. Could she read minds? He didn't doubt it. A horrible flush of warmth and emptiness shot inside him. His heart throbbed. 'You would stay with me?'

'Haven't I always?'

'Yes. That's something I've appreciated about you. Despite the amount of times you've been commenting on, you never dismissed me. I became a problem for you, but you didn't push me away and give up. . . that's probably why I love you.'

Her whole body came to life. The moment he confessed, she widened her eyes and flushed a tinge of pink. She trembled slightly and looked at him in awe. He wasn't sure if she was shocked or flattered. It was odd to see Olivier like this. Her expression softened a little and her voice was a whisper, as if this discussion had to be complete secret. '. . . You love me?' She furrowed her eyebrows slightly, not completely convinced.

'I always have.'

'You're serious?'

Miles smiled slightly. Her timidness was kicking in.

He was serious. This was the most honest thing he had ever said to her.

She didn't need an answer. She knew he was telling the truth.

Olivier faced him properly and looked away when he smiled. While he wasn't showing it, inside he was screaming. Dear God, was she all right with this? Had he offended her? How could he have done? Did she not believe him?

'And, um. . .' she mumbled something, and he asked her to speak louder. 'I. . . I – I you.'

That was enough for him. He kissed her reassuringly, not wanting her to fall embarrassed for showing emotion.

She had revealed this shy girl inside her who knew nothing about loving a man until today. Miles felt triumphant. He had found someone inside her cold body; a soul.

And he was obliviously – sweet and innocent like the man he always was – giving her his.

* * *

><p>Roy had intended to ring Hawkeye and ask her out again (hoping for better results), but was interrupted when the doorbell echoed the apartment. Sighing, he opened the front door. Roy was about to tell Joshua to come back later, but stumbled on his words when he spotted the teen had brought three suitcases with him.<p>

He didn't need to ask. It was damn clear what was happening.

'I want to move in with you,' Josh said.

'Why?'

'Because you understand me. I also like you. I'll promise not to get in your way, Roy.'

Mustang pursed his lips. 'I'm not going to be your babysitter!'

'You kidding? I'm sixteen. I can take care of myself.'

'Does your aunty agree with this?'

'We discussed – argued actually – and she said she can't stop me. She let me go.'

Mustang wasn't content with the situation, but he couldn't bring himself to push Josh away. Here he was, wanting a home with three suitcases behind him. Roy exhaled and gave way.

'Come in. You can have the spare room.'

* * *

><p><strong>author's note<strong>: I actually got inspiration from Cap'nHoozits' fantastic fiction _Sons of the Desert_ about the whole "Amestrian" dance thing. Next update shall be soon - probably tomorrow or day after. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

The Black Sheep  
><strong>Chapter 6.<strong>

* * *

><p>When Riza saw Joshua, she saw Roy at sixteen when they first met. His unruly black hair was identical, angular face and pale skin. The only difference was the boy's eye colour: ruby red, that shone brightly. His grin was Roy's, and it was like seeing a mini Mustang. She had mixed feeling on him at first. It had taken a while for Riza to warm up to Mustang, and it would be the same for his younger brother.<p>

However she was polite and kind to him, not wanting to jeopardise the growing relationship between the two males. Joshua was nice back, thus they didn't have any problems. It took Riza a while to ask why Joshua was coming to the wedding, and when Mustang revealed he was moving in with him she recoiled.

'That's a little fast, isn't it?' She said, quiet so Josh couldn't hear them.

'I know, but. . . Hawkeye, he was standing in my doorway with three suitcases behind him. I couldn't tell him to go away, could I? What would you have done?'

She averted her gaze from him. 'I don't know. I've never had the luxury.'

Roy closed his lips. He sighed, watching her. 'Sorry, Lieutenant.'

'It's okay, sir.'

The trio were half way through their journey to Risembool where the two lovebirds would be married. Roy wasn't sure if there was a Church where Winry lived, and Riza convinced him there wasn't. They would probably be getting married in their own home.

'How can you get married at home?'

'Why not?'

Mustang pursed his lips. 'A little cheap, isn't it?'

'Since when was love celebrated with rich fortunes?'

She had him again. 'Touché. Still: kinda cheap.'

'Okay then. . .' Riza leaned closer to him, a crooked smile over her face. 'Where would you get married, sir?'

'On a hill.'

This took a moment for her to register. Riza snorted. 'A hill?'

'You heard me correctly.'

'Mm, a bit cheap, isn't it?'

Mustang grinned. 'Nature isn't cheap. Now that Fullmetal and Rockbell are marrying, I wonder who'll be next.' He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

'Don't bet on it.'

'Fine.' He tried again. 'Um. . .' Roy snorted, laughing a little. 'How about the Wicked Witch of the North and her monkey?'

Riza blinked. '_Who_?'

He tutted. 'General Armstrong and Miles.'

Hawkeye laughed, and he joined in. 'That's bizarre! I see Miles getting married, but. . .'

'Yeah, well, Joshua told me he spotted those two holding hands.'

'We've held hands.'

'Yes, but, _you know_.' He shrugged. 'She's not exactly the romantic type.'

Riza grinned. 'You don't know that, sir.'

Mustang's mouth twitched. 'I do, actually. Not once has she ever gone on a date with me. Completely and utterly rejected me. How is that romantic?'

'You're not her type.'

'Wh – Hey, how would you know?'

Hawkeye smiled. 'I know a lot of things, sir.'

'. . . What's so special about Miles?'

Riza sighed dreamily and leaned back in her seat. 'Well, he's good-looking; smart; knows how to use a gun; has manners; isn't a lady killer; is nice in general–'

'Okay, I get the picture,' Mustang mumbled, looking away.

His subordinate smiled, amused by Roy's obvious envy. The General drummed his fingers against the table, watching Josh gaze out of the window next to them. He inhaled and turned to Riza.

'So he's nice?'

'He's sweet, yes.'

'Is that it?'

'Sir, why are you so interested?'

Roy gave her a look. 'Pardon? I am not interested! I'm just. . . killing time.'

'Uh-Huh. Are you jealous of him?'

'What? Because he's been fucking Olivier? No.'

'_Sir_!'

'Well they probably have.'

Hawkeye had trouble to keep a straight face. She gave him one of her disapproving looks. 'So what if they're together? It's none of our business. You wouldn't like it if people were chatting about us, would you?'

'People already are.'

'You like that?'

Mustang didn't respond. She had cornered him, and she knew. He didn't talk for the next half an hour.

'Do you like Miles?'

'Dear Lord, sir, _no_.'

* * *

><p>It was nothing. He was just getting married. That was all. Nothing tricky about it. Many had got married, and he had been in far more difficult situations. He could handle this with ease. This would go smoothly. He knew <em>exactly<em> what to do and where to stand and what to say.

. . . But not really.

Edward tugged at his tie viciously, and growled in irritation. He fucking hated this tie! Goddammit, why did Alphonse had to buy it for him? It was ugly too: yellow. It clashed with his hair. Anyway, why would you have a yellow tie for a wedding? Shouldn't he be dressed in white? Well, he was, apart from the tie.

He checked to see if anyone was watching, then tore off his tie and quickly replaced it with a smashing white one. There, much better. He smiled at himself in the mirror, and then scowled. He looked like a moron.

At first, he thought some lost boy had entered his room. It took him a moment to realise this lost boy looked exactly like–

'_Mustang_?'

'Nope. I'm Joshua, his little brother.'

Edward sneered. 'He doesn't have a brother.'

'Yes he does.'

Edward yelped when a second voice appeared to his left. He glared towards the two Mustangs, blinked, rubbed his eyes and gaped in horror. 'I'm seeing double!'

'Nice tie,' Roy sniggered, receiving a sneer. He looked at the yellow tie across the bed. 'Urgh! What tramp gave you that?'

'My brother.'

'Oh. Country folk and their fashion.'

Ed cocked an eyebrow. 'Yeah? What about it? Sorry, I didn't know you were on top of the weekly fashion, Mustang. Is that your new career?'

'Wow, Fullmetal. You made a joke. Did it hurt?'

Joshua laughed. Edward groaned.

'Is Hawkeye here?'

'Yep. She's with Winry doing lady stuff.'

'Ah. . .' Edward swallowed and smoothed down his jacket. 'There won't be a lot of people today. She said she doesn't want a crowd.'

'Well, I wouldn't worry. You're not that popular,' Roy remarked.

There was a knock against the door. Joshua happily hopped onto Ed's bed when the former Alchemist invited the person in. He was a little shocked to find it was Miles. 'Hey there. You actually came?'

'Nice suit,' Roy said.

'My General gave it me.'

Roy's smile faded. 'I'm sure she gave you something else. . .'

Edward raised his eyebrows. Miles smiled cooly. 'I just wanted to say congratulations, Mister Elric.'

The blonde grinned. 'Thanks. So, I guess, out of all of us I'm the first wedded? Great. . .'

'Actually,' Miles said, 'If you include me, I got married when I was fourteen.'

Edward looked at him so quickly his neck cricked. Roy gaped. Joshua didn't see the problem. It was Mustang who spoke. 'Where is she?'

'Dead,' Miles replied. 'She was killed during the Ishval War.'

Edward threw Mustang a look.

'What did she look like?'

'Small. Tied back hair; red eyes; tanned skin. She would usually be wearing an apron.'

Roy stiffened. 'Oh right.' He wiped his hand through his hair. 'I'm sorry for your loss, Miles. That's awful.'

'I've forgiven all of those who fought against our race. Don't apologise.'

Mustang was quiet. Edward sighed and, avoiding the two Mustangs, nodded his head towards the Ishvalan. 'I'm ready. How many are out there?'

'Not a lot,' Miles reassured.

'I hope Winry's all right with the dress.'

'Why?' Josh asked.

'. . . She's had trouble recently, what with her stomach being so big.'

Mustang couldn't take anymore surprises. His voice croaked, '_What_? She's _pregnant_?'

Ed smirked. 'Nah. Second one. My two-year-old is outside.'

'You never told me.'

'We wanted some privacy.'

Roy nodded. 'That's understandable.'

'Okay. Let's go. Al had better have the rings, because I will _not_ be recommending him as best man if he loses them.'

'Don't worry,' Mustang grinned. 'I've already got one in mind.'

* * *

><p>Their home was small, so the amount of guests was limited. Miles felt he and the General were the odd ones out, as they were the least close to the Elrics. However Edward seemed happy to have them here, although Miles had noticed him straying away from Olivier's glance. He clearly wasn't confident around her yet, knowing she could slice him in two without moving.<p>

Izumi roughly pulled him into a tight embrace, Edward screaming at her that he couldn't breathe. It took ten minutes for all the guests to be greeted, and the groom now stood waiting with Alphonse for his bride. Miles snorted. Edward could not keep still.

'You're the last person I expected to see here,' Izumi said from behind him. Miles rose his eyebrows. 'After all, you do live up in the mountains.'

'We were in Central at the time,' Miles said, moving over so she could sit next to him.

'Heading back tomorrow?'

'. . . I. . . Yes.'

Izumi squinted her eyes and turned to Olivier, who was currently in a rather heated discussion with General Mustang. She could tell by her expression Roy was being cheeky. She faced Miles again, and saw the Major was looking in the same direction.

'You all right?'

Miles jumped and looked at her. 'Um – yeah, I'm fine.'

'You don't look fine.'

'I don't?'

'No. You don't look well.'

Miles frowned. 'I _feel_ fine.'

'Something bothering you?' Izumi asked, watching her two apprentices quarrelling up front.

'I shouldn't complain.'

'Yeah right. I've heard that one before.'

The sound of rapid footsteps drew nearer to them, and in a second Joshua was in front of Miles. He sat down beside him, eyes wide. 'You're half-Ishvalan, right?'

'Yep.'

Josh nodded. 'I saw you at the funeral. Do you remember?'

'Yeah.'

'. . . Just to warn you, there's a bastard over there who _really_ will be unpleasant to you. He started calling me names.'

'Which guy?' Izumi asked.

'That one.'

They followed where Joshua was pointing, and Miles failed to recognise who this man was. He was thin, tall, brown hair and wore a smart suit. Izumi seemed just as clueless. 'I'll ask Edward. He may know.'

'Let's hope,' Miles grinned, imagining Ed's face if he saw a complete stranger at his wedding.

Joshua hurried away to speak with other guests, leaving Miles alone for a moment. He felt a hand brush against the back of his head and his heart fluttered when Olivier sat beside him.

'I hate Mustang.'

He smiled. 'I know that, ma'am. What did he say?'

Olivier sighed and slithered down her seat. She put her feet up on the one in front of her, earning a look from two people nearby. 'Nothing unusual. Wanker. I can't wait for when I'm Führer and I can sack him. That'll wipe the smirk off his face,' she smiled impishly. 'Oh God, it will, haha!'

Führer. Something she would become in the future. A day where he wouldn't be next to her. He inhaled and removed his shades. He wanted to run away and scream into the heavens. He didn't want to leave her. He never had, but this feeling had intensified over these few days. He couldn't see a life worth living if she wasn't there. What could he do? Where would he go next?

He had to tell her. He had to say his leave. Miles swallowed and looked at her. Tell her. _Now_.

'Gen–'

'There you are!' Roy exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Olivier. She squirmed under his firm grip. 'I was starting to miss you!'

'Get off her,' Hawkeye said. Mustang instantly released. 'I apologise,' Riza said, sitting beside Olivier.

'I don't know how you can stand being with him for more than an hour.'

'Yeah, well that's what I'd say to Miles,' Mustang said defensively. 'You'd drive me nuts.'

'Feeling's mutual.'

'Ladies, you're both pretty. Can we stop arguing now?'

Olivier widened her eyes in horror. Roy smirked. 'Alex, I didn't know you'd be here.'

The large man sat next to Miles, and nodded his head. 'How could I miss this?'

'Somebody get the tissues ready,' Olivier muttered. Riza smiled.

'Are you going to cry?' Roy asked her, exaggerating on his concern.

'No. . . My God!' Olivier shot to her feet. 'I'm sitting at the back.'

* * *

><p>The ceremony went smoothly, despite Edward's non-stop worrying. Miles could see Winry's lump, and their eldest child in the arms of Granny Rockbell. Alphonse didn't lose the rings, and after two hours the Elric boy announced cake and drinks would be served outside. It was snowy in Risembool, but Miles was used to this weather having living in it for as long as he could remember.<p>

He was conscious he had been awfully silent and non-sociable throughout the evening, and hoped his General hadn't noticed. He occasionally caught her watching him in curiosity. How could Miles smile and jump around with alcohol like Mustang and the Emperor of Xing were doing? He felt like he was drowning. He wanted to tell her what he had agreed with Johnny, but he was scared of her reaction.

It had started to snow, and they were sheltered in a large tent possibly put up with the help of Alchemy. Roy had started several warm fires in platters (receiving sneers from Edward), and so the area was lit beautifully against the white blanket.

Miles didn't notice Winry at first. He had to admit she looked amazing in the white dress she wore. Her lump fitted her well – suited her. It was weird to think pregnancy could suit someone. Miles admired Winry's confidence when she spoke to his General. He couldn't hear their conversation, muffled with the thoughts swirling inside his head.

'Would you like to hold him?'

'No, I'd probably drop him,' Olivier said cooly. Secretly she had never been fond of holding infants, scared they'd fall from her arms. Her phobia hadn't been discovered, thank God, although Winry seemed pretty keen the icy woman hold her first born.

Edward happened to have wandered over, and looked at his wife as if she were mad. Winry happily held out the baby to her. Roy, as if one cue, stepped in. 'What's the matter? You scared of babies now?'

Olivier rolled her eyes. 'Of course not.'

'You won't drop him,' Winry said. The female General gave her a look, loosened her expression and reluctantly took hold of the child.

He was surprisingly light, and fit comfortably into her arms.

After several seconds, she returned the baby back to his mother. Winry smiled by the older woman's clear lack of confidence. Mustang grinned. 'Hey, can I hold the little guy?'

'No!' Edward exclaimed. Winry shot him a dirty look.

'Of course you can.'

Olivier took a double take when she spotted Miles watching her, wide eyed. She didn't understand what the problem was, and she hadn't seen him look at her like this before. Olivier cast him a look and moved away.

The Ishvalan swallowed and lowered his gaze. The way she had looked at the baby wasn't with fear. He had seen nothing but innocent curiosity. There was something in her expression that enlightened him. Usually death played in her eyes or a form of dislike, but when she gazed down at the infant. . . he almost spotted a tenderness.

He had to apologise for staring at her like that. Miles stood to his feet, sighed and slumped back down. He felt ashamed for not socialising or joining in with the fun. Tomorrow he would be leaving her. He imagined her angered response, and he felt angry back. She should appreciate the fact he had sacrificed his life for hers. Miles clenched his fists. It felt like ants were under his skin. He felt uncomfortable and desperate.

* * *

><p>When it was past ten in the evening, the Elrics' offspring had drifted to sleep. Roy was barely sober along with Ling. Edward also had trouble staying on his own two feet. Hawkeye snatched away the glass from Mustang's hand, Joshua sneakily taking it away with him. Winry looked like she was going to collapse from exhaustion any minute. Over the hours, a table had been gathered around. Izumi was enjoying recounting back to when Edward and Alphonse were her apprentices, and stating rather embarrassing moments much to the brothers' displeasure. She had a laughing audience though.<p>

Miles had lightened up throughout the night, but the deal still drilled into his head.

She was next to him now. He should ask her if they can go somewhere private. Maybe that wouldn't be wise. Someone might think they were up to something. Miles tutted. In a place like this? What was stopping him? Why couldn't he speak?

The snow, along with several lamps and fires, created a fantastic brightness. It was surreal and almost magical. A soothing tune was being played, and several couples were performing the dance Miles recognised. Not the waltz, but the other style.

'I apologise for the way I was looking at you before,' Miles said. Olivier raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. Then realised what he was referring to.

'You shouldn't apologise for something so legitimate.'

The blonde turned her head to someone who proceeded to them. Miles' heart clenched. He was the man Joshua was warning about. He smiled. 'You must be the female General Edward talks about.'

'Edward _talks_ about me to you?' Olivier asked. 'You must be rather dim to be around then.'

He stuttered. 'Right. How did you end up knowing him?'

'How did _you_ end knowing him?'

Miles laughed silently. His commander had a knack for being a nuisance.

'We met,' the man said. 'He didn't fill me in you had a servant.'

Olivier looked at Miles and smiled a little. 'Yes, this man has been my servant for many years. He's done a fine job too. Isn't that right, Fernando?'

_Fernando_? Miles swallowed. 'Uh, y-yeah.'

'I see he has trouble speaking English.'

'He's getting there.'

'You know. . .' the man inhaled, frowning at Miles. 'Ishvalans destroyed my family. Took them away from me.'

Miles' lips were fastened. He didn't know how to respond.

'Mm, you poor guy,' Olivier muttered sarcastically. 'But if your family hadn't fought, maybe they'd still be alive. I think you're the type of person I'd dearly love to kick in the behind.'

Miles laughed heartily. The man gave him a repulsive look. 'You think it's funny?'

'Sorry, he has these spasms where he laughs,' Olivier said, patting Miles on the shoulder. The Ishvalan, for some reason, was having trouble keeping a straight face.

The man slowly departed. Miles snorted. 'Do you often make fun of people like that?'

She shrugged. 'I was bored. Needed some entertainment.'

Miles watched the couples swaying softly to the music. Edward was tripping slightly over his shoelaces, and somehow Mustang had been able to drag Hawkeye with him.

'Can we dance?'

There were so many reasons why she loved him.

Being close to her was something he desired; needed. He couldn't be happier when she was against him. His world couldn't be more perfect. His face was burning, but he shouldn't be shy – nobody cared. It was just her and him.

His heart thudded heavily against his rib cage. It thumped so powerfully he was afraid she could feel it. Strange how love kept the heart going; encouraged the blood to pump faster – keeping him alive.

Miles held her firmly, wanting to stay like this.

He didn't want to live after tomorrow. How he hated time. It had gone too fast.

The Major instantly released her when she complained quietly. He had held her too tightly. Her stab wound was still healing. She rubbed her injury tenderly and gave him a twitchy smile.

His heart was bursting to tell her what he had agreed.

'I'm leaving the military.'

* * *

><p>Betrayal. That was the first emotion that pounded into her.<p>

She hadn't spoken to him at all on their journey back. Olivier didn't know what to say. She blamed it on fatigue. Really she wanted to scream at him. Hurt him for deciding such a stupid option. How could she be his commander when pathetic, loving couples were prancing around them? She had some honour.

Olivier slammed the apartment door, and succeeded to scare him. The kitten dashed away, and for a moment she became conscious of her blurred eyesight. She growled, furious with herself for _crying_. She wouldn't allow him to have the pleasure.

'I hope you're joking.'

Miles shook his head. 'No. I'm leaving. I don't intend to return back to Briggs. Sorry, ma'am, but that's the way it–'

'The way it is?' She cut through him. 'Okay. Explain then. What's your reasoning?'

He watched her. Stared into her eyes, hoping she would read him. Apparently she couldn't. Miles ran a hand down his face. He braced himself, forced his heart to calm down. He didn't care what she did. She could scream at him, and he wouldn't agree. He needed to go through this. She would discover why soon enough.

'_Miles_, talk to me, goddammit!'

'I can't say why. I hoped you'd understand.' He sounded pathetic. He should have thought this over better.

Olivier looked at him helplessly. It scarred him to see her like this.

'. . . Is it because of us?'

He loved her for suggesting reasons. She was giving him help when he didn't deserve it.

'No,' he said. 'I have my reasons and I want them to remain secret.'

'You're an idiot! Where do you intend to go?'

He shrugged.

Olivier scoffed and began to laugh. 'Wow. I'm impressed. . . Are you actually serious?'

'Yes.'

She inhaled sharply. Her body shook with rage. 'Do you have any idea how stupid you sound?'

Miles struggled with his feelings. If he told her about Johnny, she would dismiss him completely. This was a chance for him to set things right for her.

. . . If he could just get through this.

They watched each other in silence for ages. He felt numb all over.

Olivier sneered, and he spotted the sadness in her eyes. He had hurt her.

She turned to walk away. She had no words for him.

His heart burst. The emotions that swelled inside him were too much to bare, and he hated himself for ending up in such a mess. Behind her cold demeanour, she was still open to him. She was walking away because her mind was numb; she was tangled with outrage and confusion.

Miles couldn't step aside, watch the night roll past.  
>He couldn't shrink into the shadows; play the coward.<p>

Miles couldn't let her go _yet_.

His hands trembled when he roughly faced her to him, and pressed his lips against hers. He was expecting her to struggle and remove herself from him, but she mirrored his enthusiasm. Miles felt her, ripped at her jacket, throwing it carelessly. He hated himself for viciously tearing her garments, lip locked, touching her, making her moan. They fell together. He had complete control. A possession he should not have.

It shouldn't be this way.

Stripped, they pressed against each other. She clung onto him, unable to take him in one go. What was he doing? Was he trying to make her hate him? Miles rocked, tangled with her, racing for a place only they know.

She was beaten, confused and damaged beneath him. And he had just ripped her apart with delicate ease.

'I love you.'

Olivier thought his confession meant he was sorry and that he had been foolish.  
>She hadn't known he meant good bye.<p>

* * *

><p>Feeling the cold side of the bed, she didn't want to wake up.<p>

The room smelt of him and her and she shivered – not from the temperature.

She hated Miles. She hated him so damn much! That bastard. That son of a bitch. He had made her so stupid and pathetic and ridiculous. She hated him for leaving her. She despised him for deserting her in the night, when she was asleep.

But Olivier loathed herself more. She had been silly and reckless all along.

She had fallen for him. She had loved him, and welcomed him into her arms. She had given him her affections. Olivier shouldn't have done that. She had made herself look _weak_ and _disgusting_.

How could he abandon her? Olivier had foolishly mistook their lovemaking as an apology.

She had acted unprofessionally. She should never have brought them closer. What an idiot she had grown to be. Olivier cursed herself bitterly, hating the world.

Tears stung her eyes, and she furiously wiped them away. She was acting as if he had broken her fucking heart. As if. Olivier wasn't weak like that. She had been treated worse. He was nothing.

* * *

><p>Hawkeye requested to see her before she headed back to Briggs, but Olivier objected, refusing to answer the door. The General had to admire the Lieutenant when she barged it open. It took guts to disobey an order from the commander of Briggs. Riza looked flustered like she had just ran here.<p>

'You going, ma'am?'

'I have no intention to stay any longer,' Olivier said.

'Can I say something?'

'No.'

'M–'

'Hawkeye, go away.'

Olivier noticed the kitten, and a ball formed in her throat. Miles had forgotten him. She didn't know what to do with the animal. Ritu purred at her feet, rubbing itself against her affectionately. Hawkeye raised her eyebrows.

'He's sweet.'

'Take him. He'll be in my way.'

'General, has Miles left?'

Olivier stiffened. She shouldn't have this reaction whenever she heard that bastard's name. She threw Hawkeye a look of distaste. 'Yes, why?'

'Where did he say he was going?'

'I don't know,' Olivier said, a little too harshly.

'I know where he is,' Riza replied, her voice breaking slightly.

The General watched her for a moment, suddenly concerned to know where he had gone. She pushed away her feelings and walked past her. 'I don't care.'

'I overheard him talking with Johnny.'

'What?'

'He had made a deal. If he was to quit the military, then none of your family would be hurt.'

Olivier snorted. Hawkeye didn't falter. She was serious.

'They're meeting at two.'

* * *

><p>It was half past one when Hawkeye had stayed behind with her commander. Olivier wasn't filled in completely with what plans they had made, but she didn't care. She didn't want them involved. She felt this was between her and Miles, and she could deal with this problem. She had done this sort of thing many times.<p>

Olivier caught sight of him ten minutes later. Her heart skipped a beat. Seeing him now was painful. She felt furious at him, and wouldn't mind removing her pistol and shooting him.

Miles walked swiftly, without peering behind his shoulder. He knew where he was going. Miles headed towards Central bridge, and down towards the river bank. Olivier noticed him pause. She stiffened. He moved his head slightly, and then continued. The General peered round the bridge support and watched Miles stop in front of three men.

She was spotted. Olivier hastily hid herself.

One of the men grabbed Miles and placed a gun to his temple. 'Don't move, or I'll kill him!'

'Allow me,' Olivier muttered, before whipping out two pistols and firing at the trio. The bullets stabbed two of them, but the other made off with the Ishvalan. Olivier hurried forwards, casting her eyes around, prepared for any attacker. She stopped further ahead and watched as Miles was thrown at her feet. Olivier looked away from him. Five men now stood before her, guns aimed.

'Your buddy told us he'd be going alone.'

'He was,' Olivier said. She fired. A bullet hit her arm, but she ignored it, continuing to shoot.

One of them rushed towards Miles and yanked him to his feet. Armstrong sneered by how weak Miles was acting. He wasn't moving or saying anything. He refused to look at her.

Olivier aimed her gun at the two of them. She noticed her hands were shaking.

And then she realised why Miles wasn't attacking: he was disabled. Both of his legs had been sliced.

Something heavy pounded onto her pressure point, and she buckled forwards, feeling a cold pistol press against her temple. She growled, struggling out of this man's grip.

'Do it!' The one holding her shouted.

The man sent his knife across Miles' chest, blood spurting out. Her subordinate screamed in agony, scrunching his eyes closed. He buckled back aggressively.

Olivier widened her eyes in horror. She knew what they were doing.

'Now you know how we felt.'

His arm was stabbed, his collarbone slashed, his abdomen cut deeply. Each yell of pain he made caused Olivier to shiver. A fire burst inside her. And then this weird, peculiar sensation developed.

She wanted to cry.

They were killing him; torturing him before her eyes.  
>Because of her. If she hadn't followed him, then everything would have been sorted.<p>

Miles was limp.

A strong voice echoed the area, and some of the men fled. Gunshots rang. Olivier broke free, scrambled to her feet and hurried towards Miles. She heard Mustang calling orders. Olivier pressed her hands against the Ishvalan and shook him. He didn't stir. Olivier looked at his face, searching for any signs of life, but his eyes were blank. She saw nothing. She swallowed back a cry. No, no, not like this.

'Miles?'

He was dead.

Olivier threw herself back. She inhaled sharply, glaring at his lifeless form.

Then it hit her: Miles was gone. Her partner; her subordinate; her King was dead.

Her vision blurred.  
>She ignored Mustang's calls. She felt him drop behind her.<br>For once, Olivier didn't care if she spilled her emotions.

She tugged on Miles jacket, pressed her face into his bleeding chest and wept.

* * *

><p>All on site were arrested and questioned, but Miles had led Mustang's men to all of them. There was no one left to salvage. They had been caught. Their vengeance flowed high, yet they couldn't do a thing behind bars. They had been corrupted, and couldn't be blamed.<p>

* * *

><p>Their journey back from the hospital was long and stuffy. Roy turned the air conditioning on, but it didn't change the glum atmosphere. Alex sat in the back seat, eyes staring ahead, unable to think up a conversation. The street lamps began to vanish the further Roy drove, until his car was the only source of light.<p>

'How are you feeling?' He asked the General beside him. She hadn't spoken a word since Miles' passing.

She shrugged. 'I'm fine.'

Roy swallowed and turned to face forwards. 'I think Miles must have known he was going to his death.'

'He paused when I started following him.'

'I think he knew you were there.'

Olivier looked away, gazing out of the window.

'They'd do anything for us, wouldn't they?' Roy said. She knew who he meant. Their adjutants; the underling that stood beside them whatever. She had lost hers, it was only a matter of time until Roy's hands slipped away from his.

'Can you stop the car?'

Roy fell silent and obeyed. He couldn't look at her, afraid of her expression. The Alchemist gripped the steering wheel when she left the car. She walked onwards, the night swallowing her.

Then she screamed. She screamed at the top of her lungs toward the sky, cursing, hating the world and herself.

Roy was frozen. Alex was on his feet and rushed to her, grabbing her in an attempt to calm her down, unable to speak. Mustang watched the General continue to wail. His heart hammered against his chest. He knew how she felt. What it was like to lose a loved one; someone dear and precious to you.

He ran for her and held her firmly, embracing her. Roy refused to let her go and she calmed, sobbing into his shoulder. Sharp tears escaped his eyes.

'Stay awhile. . .'

* * *

><p><strong>End<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>author's notes<strong>: Some of your suggestions where Miles goes next from the previous chapter were sweet (especially MewPhong's about him becoming a chef).  
>If you don't understand why they killed Miles, it was because he had allegedly brought Olivier with him. Also, the fact she was there would be a great opportunity for her to have some of her own medicine (torturing loved ones).<p>

* * *

><p><span>Acknowledgments<span>:

1) I do not own _Fullmetal Alchemist _(_Brotherhood_) and never will. Hiromu Arakawa created these gorgeous characters.  
>2) Thank you for your support and encouraging reviews. I appreciate them.<br>3) My kittehs, because they're cute!


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